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kurlyfrasier · 2 years

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First Encounter (The Holonet Reporter, Part 1)

You might wanna read The Holonet Reporter One-Shot before reading this, but it’s not necessary.

Synopsis: A holonet reporter finds trouble at an underground massif fight where she meets the Silver Mandalorian for the first time.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!OC (platonic)

Warnings: Threats, mild violence, implied child labor/slavery. Grogu is only mentioned, sorry folks. AU where there are holonet reporters

A/N: This takes place after TBOBF. Din has accepted his role as Mand’alore. We are pretending that there are reporters for the holonet, like we have newspaper reporters, ok? ok. We are also pretending the holonet newspaper can be read on datapads like you read books on a kindle or nook, ok? ok. I hope you ENJOY!

Word Count: 3135

Disclaimer: I do not own any Star Wars/Mandalorian anything. OC is my own.

Mando’a Words:

- Mand’alor (MAHN-dah-lor): Leader of Mandalorians

Pronunciations found here.

Din Djarin stood frozen in the shadows. He was clearly tired, exhausted really, to be seeing her. It had to be a trick of the mind. Maybe the Force? A concussion, most likely. But there was no way that the woman on the other side of the market, haggling for the saddest looking beat-up blaster he had ever seen, was his mother.

For one, she couldn’t have been any older than he last remembered seeing her, if not around the same age. For another, she seemed a few inches too short. Then again, he had grown over the years. Maybe she was a clone?

He shook his head.

Impossible.

“Oh great Mand'alor,” a hand smacked down hard on his pauldron, roughly shaking him to his senses. His eyes never left the woman across the bazaar.

“Who’s that,” he stated, knowing if any of his friends knew, Cara would. She always kept up with who was who and what was what. It came in handy during formal political galas. He always knew who was coming, thanks to her.

“Who- Oh,” he could hear her smile as she leaned on him as if he were a shelf, elbow resting on his shoulder. “That’s Dinna. A holonet reporter. The holonet reporter, actually.”

“The?” he asked, tilting his head in question. Ah, so not the force or a trick of the mind. A clone was still in the realm of possibilities though. He would’ve turned to look at Cara, but she made that impossible at the moment.

“The one who’s written all the stories about you.”

“There’s stories of me on the holonet?”

At this, Cara leans away, faux shock and hurt crossing over her features. “You really don’t listen to me when I talk, do you?” She shook her head. “My, my, how things have changed since you’ve become all high and mighty as-”

Din shoved her - hard - making her bark out a laugh as he turned back towards his small cruiser. The one that now held at least a dozen shaking, frightened kids he and a small team of his best Fighters had rescued from a slave ring a parsec over. They stopped in Navarro to resupply and refuel. Plus, he had a gift from Grogu for his Aunt Cara.

“Wait,” Cara falls into step beside him. “You wanna read one of her articles? I have it right here on a datapad,” she sing-songs, waving it in front of him, not truly expecting him to grab it.

He snatched it out of her hand, shocking her to a standstill, but not long enough to get rid of her. Din inwardly sighed, wondering if this is what it was like to have a sister as he scrolled down to the author’s name. He didn’t care about the story, especially if it was about him. Couldn’t believe half of anything on the holonet, anyway.

Her name had Djarin stopping in his tracks as he stared down at the datapad in his hand.

Dinna Djarin.

Impossible.

In a rush, it all came crashing back. The memories- joy- peace- the night before his worst nightmares came true.

***

“Din,” his mother had said, a smile on her face as she was helping him get ready for bed. “What do you say to being a big brother?”

“Am I getting a brother?” He had asked, curious how that suddenly just happens. “Is he coming tomorrow?”

“Or a sister,” his mother chuckled as she led him toward his bed. “And not tomorrow, but many months from now.”

“That seems like a long time to wait,” he mumbled through a pout.

“Babies take time to grow inside mommies,” she patiently explained, before changing the subject to something she knew he would enjoy. “What would you name a brother or sister?” He was naming everything during that time. From a pet rock to each of his mother’s scarves.

Din’s face scrunched in concentration before answering matter-of-factly. “I would name a brother Traven and a sister Dinna.”

“And why do you pick those names?” She tucked him under the covers, but he was being difficult, trying to sit up, getting excited about the prospect of a brother or sister.

“Traven because it’s a cool name and Dinna because then everyone would know not to mess with her since her name is like mine!”

“Oh so you’d be protective of her, would you? What about Traven?”

“I’d teach him to take care of himself, just like daddy teaches me!”

***

“Mando?” Cara’s concerned voice had his head snapping up to meet her gaze.

He hesitated before taking long, quick strides as he absently returned her datapad back. Any residents in his way parted when they saw who was coming. “What do you know about her?” His voice came out shakier than he intended. Thank Manda for his modulator.

“Not much,” Cara shrugged, easily keeping pace, and Djarin knew he was basically going to get a full briefing. The lady was writing about her friend’s exploits. There was no way she didn’t know as much detail as possible about the reporter. “Works alone. Writes interesting stories while keeping them as true as she knows them. No criminal background of any sort. From Aq Vetina-”

Djarin spun on her, tense, facing her as if she were the enemy.

“How-” he cleared his throat, attempting nonchalance and failing if the look Cara was giving him was anything to go by. “How common is her name,” it was a demand from a king, not a question from a friend.

She didn’t even flinch. “I know I’ve never met anybody with that name- Dinna. Sounds like a kid named her,” she chuffed out. A sad attempt to lighten the tension surrounding their little bubble. She continued after immediately realizing it was futile. “As for Duhjahren- well, I looked it up in the New Republic database and it’s not common.”

“The ‘D’ is silent.”

“The ‘D’ is-” her furrowed brows raised in shock. “You mean-” She grabbed his upper arm and dragged him into her office a few doors down. She stood silent after closing the door behind them.

Djarin didn’t dare speak. He wasn’t sure he could.

“Are you telling me that you have a sister?” Cara whisper-hissed, as if saying it any louder would be blasphemy.

Djarin stayed silent, mouth dry, throat suddenly clogged. Cara was now inches in front of him somehow, lips moving, forming words, but he couldn’t hear anything except the buzzing in his ears. It had been a long few days of fighting, then calming young foundlings, then figuring out if they had any family, then hyperspace on the lowest amount of fuel he’s ever dared fly on, just to get off that awful planet where no good memories were had for the children.

And now this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinna Djarin eyed her new - well, new to her - blaster and smiled, holstering it. The Toydarian earlier in the day was a tough negotiator (as most are), but she felt she had gotten the small blaster pistol at a good price.

Where she was headed, she would most likely need it.

Dinna wrapped her scarf around her head, keeping warm on this unusually chilly Nevarro night as she exited her ship. She looked around the landing bay, noticing a group of kids with Marshall Dune (someone she needed to talk to first thing tomorrow) sitting around a fire, eating and chasing each other. Their laughter reached her ears, making her smile. Around them stood a few Mandalorians looking as though they were waiting to be attacked. Dinna wondered if their Mand'alor was around. Yet, another person she wanted to interview, along with the Silver Mandalorian she had been furiously following the past few years.

With a sigh, hoping they’d all be there in the morning, she headed back through the now empty market. If what she heard in the cantina earlier in the day was true, then the underground massif fights would be in the sewers. The same sewers she had heard a covert of Mandalorians used to live in before their Mand'alor reclaimed their planet and surrounding moons.

Dinna didn’t know exactly what she was hoping to find in the sewers. If she could make a story about these illegal fights or if she was wanting some clue on how to find the Silver Mandalorian. All she knew was that she was at a loss on where to go next and her boss wanted another story about the Silver Mandalorian, or better yet, the new Mand'alor.

She stopped in front of a tattered curtain that revealed stairs leading to the sewers. She knew because she had found it earlier, not wanting to get lost in the dark of night. With a deep breath and a quick glance around to make sure nobody was following her, she slipped in, following the deafening sounds of betting shouts and massif growls.

Once there, she immediately weaved through the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, close to the fight so she could take a few discreet holoshots to show the marshall in the morning and found an out-of-the-way corner to hide in. She may have bought a blaster, but that didn’t mean she was the greatest of shots. Honestly, she probably shot worse than a stormtrooper. It was more of a confidence booster than anything. Granted, with the trouble she always seemed to find, it would’ve been smart to practice every once in a while. She shoved that thought aside, thinking she’s lived this long so there probably wasn’t much to worry about.

Until a Devaronian bumped into her.

“Fragile human,” he growled, his pale, red face and thick, dark horns making him look like the devil himself. “What are you doing down here? And with nothin’ but a little blaster.”

“For the fights,” Dinna replied, standing tall, never one to back down even with all the odds against her and thinking she definitely should’ve practiced with her old blaster more. Or maybe even a knife. Some close combat skills would’ve been smart, now that she thought about it.

“Really? Maybe we should make them more interesting,” he looked over his shoulder. “What d’ya say, boys?” Behind him was a Twi’lek who looked more gray than blue and a pale pig-faced Snivvian.

“What did ya have in mind, Boss?” The Twi’lek moved closer, eyeing Dinna, a knife twirling through his fingers.

“Hmm… I was thinkin’ she could join the fight.”

“Good idea boss,” the Snivvian bobbed his head, arms stretching out to grab her.

“Now wait a second here,” Dinna stepped out of his reach, hitting the wall, eyes frantically searching for a way out. “I’m just here to place bets, just like everyone else.”

“I don’t think so, little human,” the Devaronian shook his head, towering above her. “I’m the one in charge here and I say you join the fight ‘cause I heard about you.”

“About me?” She squeaked, mind scrambling as she tried to keep her voice steady, shrinking into herself. “I’m nobody.”

“That’s not what I hear,” the Devaronian chuckled darkly. “I hear you're that nosy reporter who likes to make the galaxy a better place.”

“You’ve got the wrong-”

“Well the Outer Rim isn’t the Outer Rim for nothin’. We like it messy,” he shrugged. “And what’s messier than a human being ripped-”

“She said you’ve got the wrong person.”

All three spun on their heels, leaving Dinna in their shadows, hidden from sight. She wondered who just spared her a few more seconds of life.

“This ain’t your business, Mando,” the Devaronian spit out.

Mando? She wondered, slowly attempting to creep out of the corner.

“It is when she’s done you no harm.”

“I liked you Mandalorians better when you weren’t gallivanting about the galaxy, helping everyone in need.”

Now almost out from behind the thugs, about to make a run for the crowd, Dinna froze, unable to believe her eyes.

The Silver Mandalorian stood before them, looking bored, the low light reflecting off his armor making him look mystic. The Devaronian continued speaking nonsense until he suddenly wasn’t.

Dinna’s wide eyes followed the sound of a heavy thud to find the Devaronian body lying still. It took no time at all for the Twi’lek and Snivvian to make their move, both jumping the Mandalorian at the same time. He swiftly side-stepped them, effectively causing them to ram into each other, knocking themselves out. She searched the crowd to find they hadn’t noticed a thing. Perks of fighting in an already overly-loud, rambunctious place, she supposed.

“Follow me,” the modulated voice said while grabbing Dinna's wrist. Gently, but firmly, he guided her through the throng and out onto the still dark market street where he let go.

Following his quick strides, Dinna’s reporter instincts kicked in.

“Can I ask you some questions?” She asked, voice filled with hope.

The soft thud of his boots on the ground and dark, flowing cape were her only answer.

Maybe he wanted her to show her appreciation first?

“Thanks, by the way,” Dinna started, hands speaking just as much as her mouth. “For, you know, saving my life. No way would I have been able to get out of that one.”

She was met with silence.

“I’m Dinna.”

Not even a head tilt or a sigh or any sort of recognition was shown that he heard her.

“Hey,” she jogged a few steps ahead of the Silver Mandalorian and stopped directly in his path, facing him.

It worked. He stopped. He stared. Or, at least, she thought he was staring. It was hard to tell through the darkened visor.

“I’m a reporter,” she paused. “For the Holonet.”

Silence.

“Well, if you don’t want me to interview you, then could I get an interview with the Mand'alor?”

He stiffened.

Ah, so he was listening.

“Would you mind asking him for me? Or her? My boss would love it if I actually got an article in on time,” Dinna rambled nervously before this silent man, hands gesticulating as she continued. “Not that he’s a mean guy or anything. I’ve just been having trouble- I write about you, actually! I’ve written about you killing the Krayt Dragon, helping out those villagers on Sorgan, about that guy Koresh. Apparently a lot of people hated that guy. How you helped Boba Fett. Granted, I didn’t actually get to talk to the man himself. He was offworld at the time. I’ve even ran into a couple of New Republic X-Wing pilots-”

“Sounds like you’re all caught up.”

“What? Not at all. I’ve been hearing rumors about you putting dents in the spice trade and freeing slaves,” she trailed off as he started moving again, stepping around her.

“Do you know Bo-Katan?” She asked, following after him, not realizing they were headed to the landing bay. “I’d like to ask her about pledging her fealty to the new Mand'alor. Although I suppose it’s been a few years since you all got your planet back…Still, I’m sure she remembers what she felt back then.”

Dinna thought she heard a short bark of laughter from him, causing her to stumble mid-step at the sound. It sounded oddly familiar, but she shook the thought away and continued her badgering, now realizing where they were headed as she looked beyond the Silver Mandalorian.

“Those kids…” she thought aloud.

“What about them,” the Silver Mandalorian stated. Dinna decided to take the chance given.

“I was just wondering if you helped save them?”

“This is the Way,” he replied, turning back towards the landing bay.

“Okay,” she drawled, not noticing her ship as they walked past. “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Mind telling me how it went?”

Silence.

Dinna let out a long-suffering sigh. “Do any of the other Mandalorians with you talk as much as you?”

Silence.

“A name!” She shouted, surprising the group they were now in front of. The food was all gone, but the fire was still going strong with kids chasing each other while the other Mandalorians and Marshall Dune stood guard. “Please, can I get your name? I am so tired of calling you the Silver Mandalorian in my articles.”

The entire camp stilled, including the children, and seemed to listen for his answer.

“They do know your name, right?” Dinna leaned over to whisper at him after a few beats of silence, considering how intently they seemed to be waiting for his answer. She could feel the pins and needles in the air.

“Mando,” he finally replied and the camp relaxed, kids continued to play. “And yes, they know my name.”

“Mando?” She was incredulous and unsatisfied. “But everyone calls you Mando,” her arms raised in exasperation. “Even that Devaronian called you Mando.”

“A Devaronian,” Marshal Dune cut in. “That sounds interesting.”

Dinna was thankful that somebody was willing to talk to her. “Well, aside from the fact that he almost had one of his henchmen throw me in the massif fight, it was.”

Marshal Dune balked, taking in Dinna’s small frame. Mando’s relaxed hands fisted, leather gloves creaking in that quiet moment.

“Mando saved me,” she unnecessarily pointed out. “Oh! I have holoshots of the fight to show you, Marshal Dune. And I can show you where it’s at-”

“I’ll show you in the morning,” Mando stated before settling his attention on Dinna. “You don’t need to go back there.”

“But I have to,” Dinna shot back. “The whole reason I was down there was to learn about the Mandalorian covert that used to live there.” Or possibly write a story on the illegal fight, but Dinna figured he would be more sympathetic if it was Mandalorian related.

The helmet stared her down, silent as a grave. Dinna looked around uncomfortably, hoping someone would jump in to help, but nobody seemed to be paying any attention to their conversation except Marshal Dune, who was obviously siding with Mando as she stood by just as silent as the man standing between them. When she glanced back up at Mando, he was walking up the cruiser ramp.

“Hey,” she shouted after him, moving to follow. “Where are you-”

“You get used to it,” Marshall Dune stopped her with an outstretched arm.

“Oh,” Dinna’s shoulders slouched, suddenly feeling exhausted after…everything. Being threatened to be torn to shreds, meeting the very person she’s been writing about the past few years, having an actual conversation with him - well, sort of. It was late. He obviously didn’t want to talk and she was tired. “I’ll just…get some sleep then. Mind if I stop by your office in the morning to give you those holoshots?”

“Sure,” the marshal replied. “See you then.”

With one last look into the small cruiser, Dinna stepped away from the camp with hopes of speaking to Mando and Dune in the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mando’a Words:

- Mand’alor (MAHN-dah-lor): Leader of Mandalorians

Pronunciations found here.

If you would like to read more by me, click here to browse the Masterlist

#Mandalorian #fanfic #Din Djarin x OC #grogu mentioned #cara dune #platonic #no romance #my writing #violence #threats #child labor/slavery #although it's mostly implied #I am a basic star wars nerd

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slasherstories123 · 2 years

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Hi how are you? I loved your post and decided to make a request, I would like to know how Rz! michael myers, thomas hewitt, jason voorhees kids would react to meeting their daughters from the future

I know it's kind of crazy I got this idea because of a series✨

Kid! RZ Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, and Jason Voorhees reaction to seeing their daughters from the future.

A/N: I would be confused myself if I was a kid and found out I had a child in affection he future😭 thanks for the request I hope you like it!!

Tagslist: @brxwrvth @dootys @mehidktbh @fluffy-little-demon

RZ Michael Myers

It was Halloween night and Michale was sitting outside eating candy corn from his bucket, he didn’t go trick or treating this year due to obvious reasons.

He was about to go back inside until he heard a girls voice,

He turned around to see a girl in a witch costume, her features looked oddly familiar. She kinda looked like him. She had the same colored eyes as him and had his hair color.

The little girl had a smile on her face as she spoke. “Woah! This was Dad as a child!” Michael’s eyes widen at the sentence.

Father? Is she crazy? He had a child at some point in his life? “Um, father? I’m your father?” The little girl laughed at him while he sat there confusingly.

“Of course you are!” Michele didn’t know what to say to her, he still doesn’t believe it, so he let her tell her about herself. He soon began to realize that she was telling the truth.

But if this is her daughter why is she here? Shouldn’t she be in the future? He’ll ask her about it later.

“Wanna go trick or treating with me? She asked, he liked at her then at his bucket, he needed more candy anyway. “Sure!”

Thomas Hewitt

He didn’t really get along with other children as a kid because of how he looked and got bullied because of it, so he wore a mask at a young😔

As he was walking home from school, he heard a little girls voice from a far distance

Confusingly, he turned around and saw a girl about his age, as she got closer he could see his features on her, she has his hair color and his thick eyebrows.

He tilted his head at gear as she began to speak. “Hey! Wait… you look like my father!” His body stiffed at the sentence. He looks like her father? He pointed at himself. “Yes you! You’re my father! But as a child..”

At this point he’s more confused than before, how can he be a father? Either she’s crazy or something just isn’t adding up. “I don’t know how I got here… or found you here but you’re Thomas Hewitt correct?” He nodded his head.

Thomas was steering to be convinced that you were telling the truth, he didn’t expect a daughter, is she from the future? He’ll never know,

But for now, he plans to get to know his so called daughter, he let the girl follow him home, hearing all of the things that she told him from the future.

Jason Voorhees

Just like Thomas, he got bullied a lot because of his looks, and cause of this he tends to hide and or be by himself doing activities

He was coloring by himself, he then heard someone sit across from him. He looked up to see a little girl, he was confused at this, why was she sitting with him?

He then looked at her face features, she kinda looks like him, she even has the same eye color, all she did was smile at him.

Since he couldn’t speak he tried to do sign language, “Hello,” the little girl responded in sign language, “Hello Jason!” He tiled his head at her, how does she know his name, she looks like she’s new around here in Camp crystal lake.

Either those kids told you about him or one of the staffs did,

“How do you know my name?” “Well…I’m your daughter, of course I k ow your name.” If he could scream… he would be doing that right now, he has a daughter!?

He has so many questions and it feels like he could just faint right then and there, where did she come from? “You’re joking right?” “Nope! It may seem confusing at first but.. I don’t know how I got here, you’re way taller and bigger than this! I think I’m in the past.” Yep she’s from the future.

Jason doesn’t know if he should be concerned or happy, or both. What will his mother say? Will she be happy or just as confused as him? Jason took a liking to her,he was surprised to hear how his future self looked.

He believed that he looked cool! He didn’t know if he wanted to bring her to his mother though, he thinks that it would cause too much confusion😓

#rz michael myers #rz michael myers headcannons #rz michael myers imagine #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt headcanon #thomas hewitt imagine #jason voorhees #jason voorhees headcanons #jason voorhees imagine #slasher headcanons #slasher imagines #slashers #slasher fanfiction

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oliviayamaoka · 3 years

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Heartfelt Deception Continuation (Joey / The Legion x F!Reader)

Joey x Reader Angst!!!!!!

Hi! I’ve been busy working and getting ready for university but I’ve been DYING to finish requests! I wanna put my heart and soul into the requests so sorry if it takes long! Working on finishing the Doctor stuff after this!

Anyways, general plot is you see Joey again but your reunion is short lived!

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in the Entity’s realm at this point. It felt like years but must’ve been a few months. It feared you apart on the inside thinking about all those you left behind. What terrified you most was the thought of you actually being dead. Were you just a husk being punished in this purgatory? This hell? What the hell did you even do to deserve this? You sighed deeply and looked upwards.

You awaited the trial. It had been almost two weeks since you were chosen to participate in a trial. You cherished every moment not being in those twisted games. A shudder ran through your spine remembering your last trial. You awoke in a bathroom with Kate Denson. There were devices on your heads and the voice of a man spoke, telling you that he wanted to play a game. While you and Kate played that awful game, the other two were doing generators. You got the trap off of your head but Kate wasn’t so lucky. It was terrifying but you couldn’t forget the image of the woman in red. The woman who wore a pig’s head as she chased you.

“Y/N?” A guy said to you as you jumped. You recognized the guy as Quentin Smith. He was around your age and you two talked before.

“Oh, hey.” You said with a smile, a nervous one.

“Are you, like… alright?” He asked you as you nodded.

“Just nervous.” You said to him.

Quentin was friendly but he looked extremely tired. He came the same time as the dream demon? You hadn’t personally fought this demon but you hated what you heard about him. But, you did remember where they came from. Elm Street, was it? Despite the atrocities that occurred here, you loved hearing about where all these mysterious people came from. He nodded in response and looked around.

“Yeah, me too. I, uh, heard that we might be fighting that ogre…” He said. You saw the fear in his eyes when he began to remember his own trauma fighting these creatures and murderers.

“Which one?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood as he chuckled quietly.

“The samurai one.” He said as you nodded. Y/N only fought him once. A hulking samurai who beat her down in an instant. You cringed, remembering the blunt force trauma on your back. Quentin noticed how uncomfortable you looked and cleared his throat.

“Anyways, yeah… it’s just gonna be me, you, Bill, and… Ace? I dunno, they’re old so I don’t really know how to talk to them.” He shrugged.

“Well, I have faith we’ll be fine. Bill might look old but you should see him in action.” You said with a grin. Bill once refused to leave you behind, carrying you on his back and throwing you out the exit gate once. Since then, you admired him and always had his back.

“Yeah, he’s a fighter, isn’t he?” Quentin asked as he yawned. You were about to say something but the familiar, cold fog surrounded you guys.

“Come find me.” He quickly said to you as the fog completely engulfed you.

You shut your eyes tightly, opening them again when you were sure you were in one of the realms. Your hair blew slightly when you looked around. This place seemed foreign to you. It was a hospital of some sort? Not Crotus Prenn. Y/N looked around, crossing her arms tightly. The hallway looked old, dirty, and bloody. In one of the many rooms were chairs and bathrooms?

Y/N shivered and peaked down the hallways. You didn’t see any of your teammates. As you walked into the waiting room, you saw a paper on the ground. You kneeled down and picked it up.

“Leary’s Memorial Institute exposé.” You mumbled, instantly lighting up when you realized this must’ve been the realm that belonged to the infamous Doctor. You didn’t fight him yet but you heard how he fought survivors. Electric blasts? The place seemed massive and long. You then remembered what you heard your friend say. ‘Come find me.’

“Quentin?” You called out, not too loudly in fear that the killer was around. When you got no response, you just began to quietly speed walk to the generator you spotted down the hallway.

You kneeled down, wasting no time in getting to work on it. The repairs came naturally to you. And when you were so focused on survival, you were determined on fixing this generator. The generator sparked and as you continued to fix it, it became more and more loud. At this point, you didn’t care if the killer heard you. You just wanted this generator to be completed.

Or at least you thought so, anyways. Your concentration broke when you heard a scream nearby, it must’ve been Ace? Your finger slipped and the generator blew up. Y/N covered her face as she rapidly stood up. You felt dazed for a moment and heard something sprinting towards you, you quickly turned around. You gasped loudly, holding your arms up in defence as you felt something slash through your forearm.

You let out a scream as the figure immediately stopped. Y/N stumbled a bit, panicking at the slash on your arm. The killer had been one of the Legion members. You immediately forgot about the rapid bleeding from the wound when you looked at the killer. It was Joey. He seemed frozen in place, immediately regretting his actions. He held his knife as he stared at you, breathing heavily from the fatigue he got from his frenzy. Joey wasn’t thinking straight earlier, he always had a temporary migraine whenever he finished his frenzy.

As he was about to reach out, a chair was thrown at him. It was Ace. He had a slash on his back from Joey’s knife. With confidence, he spread his arms out. Ace seemed somewhat pissed off too. Joey grunted and snapped his eyes to his direction.

“Come pick on someone your own size, pal.” He said as Joey switched the way he held his knife.

“Run, kid!” Ace yelled at you.

You looked at Joey before nodding and quickly breaking into a sprint. Joey watched you, feeling frustrated at his situation. He quickly began to chase Ace, wanting to hook him and find you as fast as possible. Y/N continued running and vaulting into random rooms. You held your forearm, losing more and more blood. Y/N eventually stopped running, feeling exhausted and lightheaded.

You kneeled down, biting your lip hard as you pressed your forearm into your shirt. It stung and the sight of your own blood was making you panic. In fact, you didn’t even realize how much sound you were making, breathing heavily and crying. When you heard footsteps beside you, you basically shrieked but quickly realized it was just Bill.

“Ah, shit.” He said, throwing his cigarette to the side. He kneeled down beside you and looked at your wound.

“Quentin, get your ass over here!” He yelled. You covered your mouth with your other hand as Quentin entered the room, carrying a medkit he must’ve found. How did he always manage to find a medkit? You didn’t care right now.

“Are you okay? I mean, obviously not but…” Quentin said, quickly opening the medkit for Bill.

“It stings.” You said.

“Who was it?” Bill asked, taking your wrist as he began to quickly clean your wound and mend you. You shook your head.

“I-I don’t know… he’s after Ace right now.” You said. The three of you heard the familiar scream of Ace in the distance. He must’ve been hooked.

“Not anymore.” Bill huffed as he wrapped a bandage around your arm.

“There was no alcohol or stuff in it, sorry.” Quentin said as you nodded.

“He’s one of the faster ones, though.” You said as Bill helped you up. He has his usual mean mug.

“We best split up and work on seperate gene. If you see the bastard, you better man the hell up and run for the sake of the rest of us. I’ll get Ace. You kids work on fixing these godddamn machines.” Bill said in his usual gruff tone.

“Yeah…” Quentin said nervously.

“Okay… got it.” You said as the three of you quickly ran in seperate directions. There was no need for small talk with no generators completed yet.

You ignored the pain of the wound. Not because of your objective but because he was here? What the hell were the odds of seeing him again? Why didn’t he just kill you in Ormond? Maybe, it was a deception trick? You didn’t know and it was starting you drive you crazy. He even shows you his face. His face! You never forgot what he looked like. You also never forgot how he felt, sitting so close to you and comforting you? You felt your face heat up at the thought but got angry thinking about how it just could’ve been a lie.

You walked back to your generator, quickly going back to work on it. As you kneeled down, you yelped as you were pried off of the generator. Y/N panicked as the gloved hand covered her mouth.

“Please don’t scream!” You heard the familiar voice of Joey say to you. You struggled but quickly stopped, curiosity getting the better of you.

You quickly ripped away from him when he let you go. You turned around, eyes wide and your posture tense. Joey tilted his head, taking in your features as his shoulders loosened. It felt so intoxicating for him to finally see you again. He pulled his hood back and took off his mask. You still felt on edge when he did so. Joey knew he didn’t deserve to act so friendly but still, he smiled seeing you again.

“Look… I know things look bad right now.” He began as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Bad…?!” You whisper shouted.

“I’m sorry, okay?! I didn’t mean to…! The Entity makes me and my friends go into this weird ass bloodlust state where we want you just stab everything in sight, I stopped as soon as I recognized you!” He explained, rambling a bit.

“Stopped, huh?” You questioned, mad about your wound. It was pretty deep. He sighed deeply, holding his head in frustration.

“Look, I could’ve done so much worse than that, okay…? I just, I’m sorry, okay?” He said.

“You don’t sound that sorry.” Y/N replied, you crossed your arms.

“Man, just bare with me, aight? I’m not used to saying stuff like that.” He said, clearly flustered.

You let your guard down and stared at him. Of course, you still felt extremely scared knowing he was one of the killers but he felt so… relatable? Funny, almost. Why was Joey even a killer? What did he even do?

“It’s okay.” You said after a few silent moments. He looked at you.

“Really…?” He asked, a bit dumbfounded.

“Yeah… it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” You mumbled awkardly as he stood up straight again, putting his knife away.

“I doubt that but still… it’s nice seeing you again.” He said with a geeky smile. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise as you held your worst to your chest, looking around.

“I-um… why aren’t you trying to kill me…?” You asked in a quiet, awkward voice. It felt so strange speaking to other people your age. Quentin was fine but this was Joey.

Joey stared at you for a second. Not even he knew the answer to that question yet. Well, he didn’t but he didn’t want you outright tell you that he had a crush on you. He scratched the back of his neck and nervously looked around. He wanted to shoot his shot since he wasn’t sure if he’d see you again for a long time but he didn’t want to rush things and make you uncomfortable. Not that he cared, if this thing between you two was possible then he’d be as patient and respectful as he could.

“I think you’re cool.” He replied as you stared at him. You blinked a few times in both shock.

“You think I’m cool…?” You questioned.

“Yeah, yeah… you don’t like that?” He asked.

“No, I do, but… you’re a killer.” You said, your eyes wide with fear subconsciously as you looked at him.

Joey felt a sting in his chest with the way you were looking at him. But, you were right. He was indeed a killer. Fucking Frank, he thought to himself. If it weren’t for him and Julie pretending to be so badass, he wouldn’t be here. Although, he probably wouldn’t have met you. He deserved to be here for helping them kill that janitor. Joey knew it deep down but he wanted to preserve the image of himself he wished he had. A geeky Canadian teenager. Something he once was before he hung out with the wrong crowd.

“I know I’m a goddamn murderer, okay?! I wish I wasn’t but I had no choice!” He snapped. You seemed taken aback by his sudden outburst.

“I’m sorry, I…” Y/N stammered as he shook his head, sighing deeply.

“No, it’s fine… my bad. I’m just used to getting mad easily ‘cause of my friends. I dunno, you just miss social cues when you hang out with the same three fuckers.” He said.

You fumbled with your hands nervously and looked towards the waiting room. You thought for a second before clearing your throat.

“Um… wanna sit…?” You asked nervously as you pointed towards the waiting room. Joey stared blankly before looking at you, surprised by the suggestion.

“Uh, yeah, definitely.” He nodded eagerly as he followed after you.

You walked into the room and sat down on one of the chair, putting one leg over the other. Joey seemed much more confident when sitting, getting comfortable with his arms crossed and legs spread. You didn’t know why but you smiled at how comfortable he quickly got. Joey was a mystery, an interesting one to say the least. Y/N looked around at the walls.

“So… how are you…?” You say.

“Chilling, I guess… you?” He asked.

“Surviving.” You joke as he chuckled lightly.

“Sorry, I gotta ask… what do you survivors even do after the trials? When I first got here, I thought you would all be dead permanently.” He said to you.

“Oh, uh, there’s like a campsite? We get our own tents and supplies. We kinda just explore the woods and dreadfully wait for the Entity to choose the unlucky four.” You explained.

“Unlucky four, huh? Why are you here?” He asked you. Y/N shrugged lightly.

“Honestly, I don’t know… I was happy and free until the fog came. I’m starting to lose track of the days.” You said.

“Me too.” Joey said with a deep sigh.

“Why are you here…?” You asked nervously.

“Me? Uh… fuck. Look, I’ve been doing some self-reflection and getting in touch with like, emotions and shit. I know what I did was wrong but it was Frank’s fault. And Julie influenced his dumbass… if only they didn’t think they were fucking Harley and Joker.” He muttered.

“What happened?” Y/N asked.

“I—or we, killed a janitor… it was some older dude. Me and Susie didn’t want to but I dunno, I never thought peer pressure was real but… I guess I was just scared shitless when I saw Frank with that knife…” He said. You could hear the guilt in his voice as he leaned forward.

“And it could’ve been something we could’ve easily redeemed ourselves for but… that’s when the Fog came. I dunno… ever since I met you, I’ve just been thinking a lot.” Joey said.

“Me?” You ask as he looked at you.

“Yeah… not in a weird way but, you’re cool and normal… something I don’t find often nowadays.” He shrugged as you nodded, your heart thumping from how flustered you’d become.

“So, who’s this Frank?”

“Frank? Well, he’s my bro. My best friend, as you people would say. I dunno, he was kind of a loser now that I think of it but ride or die, amirite? Anyways, I always knew he was kind of crazy. And Julie too. I never liked her too much, she was always kinda bossy. Especially towards Susie.” Joey explained.

“Anyways, we formed the Legion. It was us four against the world for a bit. Quite literally now that I think about it. I think the Entity changed Frank… he’s more… violent now? Literally doesn’t even listen to reason anymore.” He said.

“Sounds like an asshole, sorry.” You said as he smiled.

“He is, don’t worry.” Joey said.

“So, that’s why you’re here? You got scared and were forced to do something? That’s such bullshit.” You said, looking at him.

“Yeah, I guess so…. I’m really nothing to be scared of.” Joey said before falling silent, holding his head for a second when he heard whispers in his head.

“Are you alright?” You asked.

Joey felt the Entity’s anger with him. At times, it was scary. He remembered what happened to Susie when she didn’t comply with what it wanted her to do. It just twisted her even more and made Frank into a complete monster. He shut his eyes tightly. Joey wasn’t making an effort to sacrifice anybody and the Entity was growing tired and bored with this trial.

“I’m fine, just fatigue is all…” He lied.

“But, um… yeah, thank you for opening up to me about that stuff… and for your gloves.” You said, smiling warmly. He looked towards you.

“You remember that?” He asked.

“How could I not? You’re still my friend. A good one, at that.” You say, grabbing his hands softly and standing him up. Joey wished he didn’t have his other set of gloves on so he could feel your skin.

“I was gonna suggest you drink some water slowly but… there’s none.” You said to him.

“Real smart.” He sarcastically laughed with a grin. You smiled too.

“Please, I literally forgot we were in hell.” You said.

“Oh, this is hell?” He asked, becoming a bit more bold when it came to flirting with you.

“Maybe.” You replied with a smile.

You frowned when he held his head again. Joey grunted at the sudden sharp pain in his head, a migraine worse than when the frenzy ended. You put your hand on his shoulder, watching him with concern as he grit his teeth. Why they hell was this happening now? Why the fuck did the Entity suddenly care so much? Joey knew what it wanted. It wanted it to hurt her.

“Y/N…” He muttered.

“Uh, what’s up…?” You asked in concern.

“I don’t think it wants us to waste anymore time.” Joey said, wincing from the pain and becoming more overwhelmed when the whispers grew louder. Y/N couldn’t hear anything.

“What? The Entity?” You asked.

“Listen, you should just… run, okay? Go do a generator or something.” He said before he cried out in pain after finishing his sentence.

“Joey?!” You asked with panic in your voice.

“Fuck…! Quit it, you motherfucker!” Joey yelled at the Entity, holding his head. You rubbed his back, totally unsure of what to do.

“I-It’s okay…! Don’t listen to it!” You said to him.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” Joey said to you when you suddenly felt a sharp pain plunge into your stomach. Your eyes widened as Joey stood tall, aggressively twisting the knife before pulling it away.

You coughed out blood onto his chest, clinging to his shoulders when you felt yourself lose blood rapidly. Joey pushed you back, slashing again at your chest. In that moment, he felt rage, anger, sadness, regret, shame, and guilt. But, the bloodlust he felt was even stronger than what the frenzy made him feel. He couldn’t control it. The Entity did. You wailed as you curled up, not expecting anything that just happened. Joey cleaned his knife off, putting his mask back on and lifting his hood.

Joey didn’t speak. He couldn’t even look at you when he picked you up. It made him feel even worse at how weakly you were wiggling. You punched at his back as hard as you could but you were ready to faint at any given moment due to the extreme blood loss. Joey shut his eyes tightly once he got to the hook, hoisting you off of his shoulder onto it. Your eyes shot wide open at the hooked sensation. The hook shot adrenaline through your body as you tried lifting yourself up, letting out a scream as you hung there.

He couldn’t even bare to look at you. Even in his crazed state of mind, he seemed ready to just kill himself. Why did the Entity do what it did? He just turned and walked away as fast as he could. Due to the amount of time you wasted with Joey, the Entity just decided to kill you then and there. It didn’t want to wait for any of your fellow survivors to come and get you. It was bored and hungry. Joey began his frenzy once he heard the Entity finish you off, deciding to take his anger out on the remaining survivors.

You slowly opened your eyes to see Yui watching you intently. She seemed surprised you were awake and brushed your forehead. Beside her was Claudette who made sure you were okay.

“You’re awake.” She said.

“Yui…?” You asked, disorientated.

“You did not last long, at all.” She jokingly said as you sat up. Claudette seemed too shy to tell you not to sit up. You winced.

Usually, it would take a few days for all wounds to completely heal.

“You guys must have had a rough trial.” Laurie said as she kneeled down beside you. You looked towards the other three.

Quentin, Bill, and Ace seemed to be in a worse condition than you. Multiple bandages and bloodied wounds. Your mind immediately went to Joey. What had happened? You winced at the pain in your stomach.

“It’s a really deep wound. Just sit back and relax.” Laurie said to you as you nodded.

You thought about Joey. You remembered your last interaction with him, how he seemed unwilling to kill you. What did the Entity do to him? Would he be like that forever? You teared up at the thought of it. Joey didn’t deserve to be here, he was just like you and Quentin. He was normal. You shut your eyes and hopes that maybe you’d see him again. There was a sense of heartache within you when you thought of him now.

“Heard you had an amazing fucken trial.” Frank said to Joey, congratulating him but Joey wasn’t having any of it.

“Fuck off, Frank.” He growled at him as Frank held his hands up jokingly.

“Too much palettes dropped on your tiny brain, Joe?” Julie asked sarcastically, sitting close to the fire inside the lodge in Ormond.

“The Entity seemed happy with your trial, Joey. Maybe we won’t have to do one for a while.” Susie suggested, twirling her knife.

“Probably for the fucking best.” Joey muttered as Frank stood up, tilting his head.

“Why are you so riled up, man?” He asked.

“Just leave it, Frank. Joey’s becoming soft.” Julie said, rolling her eyes.

“And you’re not? We’re in a whole different fucking dimension!” Joey snapped.

“Why would I be? We get to do whatever we want.” Julie shrugged.

“I thought that way too… when I was a fucking kid.” Joey said to her as she glared.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frank questioned him.

“You guys are still so fuckcing delusional… we can do whatever we want, really?! Even if we weren’t in his shit hole, we wouldn’t have had money, jobs, or a place to stay. I can’t believe I was that fucking childish to think this was paradise.” He said to them.

“Where the fuck is this coming from then, huh?! You just had a good fucking kill sesh and now here you are bitching like a fucking pansy.” Frank said to him.

“Kill sesh? Maybe, I am a fucking pansy for not wanting to be cool and edgy for killing innocent people.” Joey said, inches away from each other’s faces.

“Innocent people, huh? Who’d you see there, Joey?” Julie asked, a grin on her face. She seemed excited from the anger.

“Nobody.” He quickly replied.

“Was it somebody from school?” She asked.

“I didn’t see nobody, now fuck off.” He said.

“Ever since that one Ormond trial, you’ve been acting so fucken soft. We all noticed, Joey. You feel bad for one of those survivors, don’t you?” Julie said to him.

“They’re not worth feeling sorry for, Joey. They’re here for a reason and we have to punish them.” Frank said to him.

“How the fuck do you know that? Did that janitor deserve it?! Did Susie deserve this?! They sure as hell didn’t and neither did Y/N!” Joey yelled at them. Susie’s face lightened a bit. She also missed her old life but was often bullied by Julie.

“Y/N, huh? Must be one of those newer gals. You like her, Joey?” Julie asked him.

“Skip of the tongue, bitch.” Joey muttered.

“Awe, you finally found a girl. Frank and I were starting to think you’d be a virgin for eternity.” Julie said to him with a laugh.

“Shut the fuck up.” Joey said angrily.

“Whatever, she’s not worth it. She’ll probably end up as the Entity’s lunch by next week. Sometimes it kills survivors for good. Just imagine what it would do to somebody one of the killers cared for.” Frank said, smiling when the realization hit Joey.

“Awe, Joey’s showing emotion for once.” Julie teased. Joey felt scared for the first time in forever. Was it true? Would it kill Y/N because he cares for her in that way?

“Leave him alone, guys. You act like you’re not a couple.” Susie said to them.

“Oh, shut up. That’s different, we’re a group.” Julie rolled her eyes.

“Fuck you guys.” Joey said as he stormed off, leaving the other three. He needed to check up on Y/N somehow.

#dbd x reader #joey dbd #joey the legion #joey x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #joey dbd x reader #legion x reader #the legion x reader

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kamoniwa · 3 years

Text

⟼ a little madness

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: yokai!kuroo/demon!akaashi/human!reader/werewolf!semi

⇢ au: college!au

⇢ summary: you, your friends, and some friends of your friends all get tricked by one tendou satori into visiting an abandoned amusement park for halloween. it turns out it isn’t ghosts you need to worry about, though.

⇥ kinktober masterlist

⇢ warnings: gangbang, noncon to consensual, lots of reluctance, mind break if you squint?, technical temperature play, unprotected sex, creampie, the boys are real gentle in breaking you down

⇢ word count: 11,695

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: don’t really think noncon is my forte but practice makes perfect. is the pairing self-indulgent? fat yes. does this fic make total sense? not really sure. did i have fun writing it? hell yeah. also big thank you to @ishuzoku for helping me come up with the flyer bc my og id was garbage lmao.

Furrowing your brows, you looked at Tendo with a mix of exasperation and unadulterated dismay.

“An abandoned amusement park. On Halloween?” Kaori asked before you could, eyebrows disappearing into her bangs. “You cannot be serious, Tendo.”

If he was put off by your reactions, he didn’t show it. If anything, he was probably relishing in it, and said, “Yes, yes I am. It’ll be fun. Come on, do you really just wanna get drunk at a boring house party on Halloween?”

You snorted at that, stirring your coffee as you said, “As opposed to getting murdered at an amusement park? That’s like, straight out of a horror movie, Tendo.”

“You guys are so boring,” he whined, slumping forward across the table. Shirabu grumbled under his breath, glaring at Tendo as he nudged his drink closer to Shirabu’s textbook. “Look, it’ll be so cool! Exploring all the abandoned funhouses and imagine how freaky the haunted houses will be! Just think about it, okay?”

The looks everyone exchanged said they had and had already made up their minds, but you nodded anyway, if for no other reason than to appease him.

A moment later, your alarm went off and you bid them goodbye, walking towards the door with Shirabu for your next lecture. You were sure as shit not going to an abandoned anything this weekend.

Except somehow, against all odds, you were piled up in the back of Konoha’s car, crammed beside someone who had been introduced to you as Akaashi Keiji. He was a friend of Bokuto’s and Konoha’s and, upon hearing about your adventure, asked if he could tag along. If you had to peg him, he was more the librarian type than a ghost hunter type-- soft spoken and well mannered with pretty blue eyes that closed slightly when he smiled.

In the front seat were Konoha-- driving-- and Yachi, currently fighting with the radio and Konoha’s phone.

In the car behind you was someone named Kuroo-- also a friend of Bokuto and Akaashi-- Kaori, Goshiki, and Semi-- a friend of Shirabu, Goshiki, and Tendo. Kuroo was almost ecstatic to be going, but Semi had seemed like he would rather be doing anything else as he climbed into the passenger seat of Kuroo’s car.

The car in front contained Tendo, Bokuto, Yukie, and-- god bless him-- Shirabu. You were sure he was losing his mind as Tendo guided him towards the location of the amusement park. The details on how exactly this had come about were lost on you, but you vaguely recalled a drunken bet made two nights ago and a video that Tendo refused to share properly, but assured you was proof that the group had agreed to the terms of said bet and then lost. Spectacularly. Supposedly.

“So, how did you meet everyone?” Akaashi asked, turning to look at you. The scenery outside was turning quickly from civilization to wilderness, the trees growing thicker the further you drove until you couldn’t tell one trunk from the next.

Humming, you rested your chin in your hand, bracing your elbow on the door. This was the worst part of meeting someone new during a trip-- tedious small talk. But you had to start somewhere, so you said, “I met Kaori in one of our classes and ‘Toka-- er, Yachi--” The girl turned around at the sound of her name and waved. “-- is my roommate. They kind of introduced me to everyone else.”

Truth be told, you weren’t sure how they had become your core group of friends. From loud and boisterous Bokuto to sullen and taciturn Shirabu, you adored all of them, but you had had your own group of friends before meeting them. Most of those old friends had faded from sight as you found yourself absorbed in your new ones and, while a part of you felt bad, it was just a part of life.

“What about you?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “How do you know them?”

Konoha snickered from the front seat and Akaashi cut him a glare before turning back to you. “I’ve been friends with Konoha, Bo, and Tetsuro since highschool. Kaori and Yukie were our managers,” he said.

Konoha made a turn onto a road who’s name sign had long since fallen off the rusty pole, and you wondered just how far out you had traveled. It didn’t feel like it had been long since you left, but you recognized nothing around you and there was no sign of life.

“So, everyone but ‘Toka and I were friends in highschool, huh?” You chuckled. “What are the odds?”

Akaashi laughed with you, fiddling with his fingers as he turned back to look out his window.

The car was now filled with the sound of music, overtaking the silence that fell between the four of you. Konoha was focused on driving and you knew Yachi was more than a little nervous-- you had almost expected her to back out and accept whatever payback Tendo had planned for it afterwards.

“Do any of you guys know anything about this place?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your chin on Yachi’s seat. Through the windshield, you could see Tendo’s shaved head and Bokuto’s spiky locks in the backseat, and worried for poor Shirabu’s sanity. “How did Tendo even know this place existed?”

“It’s an old legend,” Akaashi spoke up softly.

Both you and Yachi turned to look at him, the latter’s breath hitching because everyone knew when those words were said, the story was going to be unpleasant.

Konoha cursed as he hit a pothole, muttering Tendo’s name under his breath as he righted the car between the faded lane lines, and Akaashi smiled at that before looking back to you.

“I doubt most people have heard of it,” he began, popping his knuckles one at a time. “It’s more of a local thing, really.”

“Well then how do you know about it?” you asked curiously, quirking a brow. You knew Bokuto grew up in Tokyo, which meant Akaashi had as well, and you were well outside of the city limits.

Akaashi smiled, tipping his head to the side and for the first time there was something other than soft indifference in it. “I enjoy these types of places and legends. It’s a hobby, you might say. This particular amusement park was meant to be scary in nature and didn’t stay open for long due to unexplained deaths and disappearances.”

Yachi squeaked, and you cast her a glance before resting your hand on her shoulder. This was probably not the best story for someone as easily scared as she was, but it was too late now, and you knew there was curiosity beneath the fear.

“That sounds way too vague,” you said, lips curling up at the corners. “That’s what everyone says about places like this. It’s not scary.”

Your skepticism was met with laughter and he said, “True. The police at the time pinned the problems on faulty attractions or poor background checks, saying there must have been a serial killer hired without anyone realizing. Sounds to me like they just couldn’t figure out what was causing it.”

You rolled your eyes, nodding along. If the park was as old as Tendo said, it could really have been faulty attractions, but you weren’t buying the serial killer story. It sounded too far-fetched compared to being crushed by an unstable support beam.

Akaashi continued, voice dropping in what might have been a scary attempt at atmosphere if the sun wasn’t framing his pretty features in a golden glow behind him. “The locals all said that the place was haunted, too many deaths had built up negative energy, trapping the spirits of those killed there. Unable to escape, they grew angry and the deaths continued until authorities labeled the park unsafe and banned any more visitors. And then--”

“What the hell?” Konoha cut him off, hitting the brakes a little harder than necessary.

Akaashi’s seat belt locked and he grunted, rubbing at the new red mark on his neck as he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Dunno,” Konoha replied, putting the car in park. “Sorry about that. Shirabu is getting out of the car.”

The car behind you pulled up as you were getting out, eyes wide as you watched Tendo lay a map out on the trunk of Shirabu’s car.

“We’re lost,” you said, sighing in exasperation.

A tall figure blocked out the sun in front of you and you squinted up into the face of Kuroo. He was giving you a catlike grin, ruffling his messy rooster hair as he said, “Sure seems that way, princess. This place is in the middle of nowhere. I’ll be surprised if we even find it.” He guided you over to the car where the others were gathered, snickering at the look of surprise on your face. “What?”

“You know about this place too?” you asked, glancing at Akaashi on the other side of the car. He cast you a small, closed eyed smile. “Akaashi was telling us about it in the car.”

Kuroo chuckled, raising a brow at his friend. “Yeah, being friends with Akaashi has its share of hazards.”

“Look, I’m pretty sure we’re here,” Tendo said, interrupting your conversation. He was pointing to a small line that looked just like any other on the map, aside from the major roadways and cities. If he was right, you were a decent ways out of the city and your watch read 1:01pm. “If we just follow this road and then this one, it’ll lead us straight past the village and to the park.”

Shirabu looked skeptical, spinning the map around to look at it as well. He wasn’t exactly wrong but how could he really tell? All the smaller roads looked the same and they couldn’t even confirm the name of the road because there was no sign. It had also been ages since they last saw a house or even another car, so asking anyone was out of the question too.

“This is stupid,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. No one besides Tendo really wanted to be there-- he ignored the fact that Kuroo was just as excited as his weirdo friend to be going and that Akaashi had jumped at the opportunity as well-- and it would be so much easier to just turn around and go to Hinata’s party. “We should just go home before we get lost.”

Tendo frowned at that, sharing a look with Kuroo before saying, “We aren’t lost*. It’s not much further now. Just trust me.”

The others were all inclined to agree with Shirabu, you included, but arguing with Tendo was like arguing with a brick wall-- pointless. He had already tricked you into agreeing to this endeavor and at this point backing out would be both a waste of time and gas. Shirabu was too smart to get lost anyway but, if you were lucky, Tendo was wrong and you wouldn’t be able to find the place at all.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to find it?” Yachi asked once you were safely back in the car.

Akaashi hummed beside you, but you said, “God I hope not. I was looking forward to Hinata’s party and if we get back quick enough we might still make it.”

Konoha looked at you in the rearview, eyes crinkled as he snickered. “What, are you scared, _____? Afraid the ghosts are gonna get ya?”

Scoffing, you dug through your bag for your phone. A check an hour ago had revealed one bar, but now the words ‘No Service’ blazed across the service banner. “No, I’m not scared. There are just a thousand better things to be doing that than breaking my neck on rusty amusement park rides.”

“Sounds like cowardice to me,” he answered, laughing at you through the mirror.

Sticking your tongue out at him, you turned back to the window, sighing as the scenery passed by in a blur. Konoha and Akaashi talked a lot about volleyball, Yachi pitching in occasionally. You knew she had managed her highschool volleyball team and knew everyone else in the group to some degree, but most everything sports related went over your head.

Still, Akaashi made some effort to get to know you, asking about highschool and what classes you were taking. You told him about your major and asked what his was, finding out he was a literature major and constantly busy, explaining why you had never met him before. He, Kuroo, and Semi were the busiest out of all their friends, often skipping out on get togethers in order to study, work, or-- in Semi’s case-- practice with his band.

A little while later, while Yachi and Konoha were having a heated discussion about their favorite subjects, you caught the first glimpse of something besides trees. Turning to look out the windshield, you saw brake lights already lighting up and the car began to slow.

“Well, we found the village, at least,” Tendo said, reading the faded sign displaying the name of the town. “I didn’t expect it to be abandoned too, though.”

Everyone was gathered in the middle of the road, looking down the mainstreet of the village. Windows were busted out and boarded up, paint faded on rotten clapboards, and roofs missing tiles or riddled with holes. The street was littered with potholes and the whole town had an eerie sense of unnatural quiet. Everyone shifted on their heels, slowly making their way back towards the cars without a word and piling in.

Even Tendo looked unnerved.

The town disappeared behind you but in the distance you could see the towering track of a roller coaster above the treeline. Even from so far away you could see that the paint was faded off of it, the sun filtering through clouds and casting the whole area in shades of grey. To you, it seemed like the forest was darker, the trees packed more closely together, and your heart began to thump in your chest.

“You okay?” Akaashi’s gentle voice asked in your ear. His hand landed on your shoulder, colder than expected, and you shivered underneath his touch. “You look like you’ve already seen a ghost.”

You nodded, looking over to find him giving you a look of amused concern, one corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “Just nervous. That town was creepy as hell and it freaked me out a little.”

“Me too!” Yachi squeaked from the front seat, turning around to give you a pleading look. “Don’t you dare leave me, _____.”

Laughter filled the car then and you patted Yachi on the shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ‘Toka.”

The towering sign for the park appeared up ahead and the car fell silent all over again as brake lights lit up again. Broken glass and gravel littered the parking lot, which was smaller than expected for how big the park looked.

Everyone seemed to hesitate on getting out of the cars. Tendo was the first, followed by Kuroo, and then Akaashi. Like it was a signal, the rest of you followed, Yachi clinging onto your hand and Kuroo and Akaashi seeming to stand behind you protectively, close enough that you could feel warmth radiating off them.

“Do we really have to go in there?” Goshiki asked, eyeing the ticket booth with disdain. The paint on it, like everything else, was faded, the wood rotten and the window and door busted out. The latter creaked on its hinges, filling the still air with an unsettling noise that mixed with the faint sounds of creaking metal and leaves fluttering in the wind.

Everyone shuffled back towards the cars a little at his question, but Tendo took a step forward, resting his hand on the turnstile. “Since we’re actually here, may as well take a look around.”

Without another moment of hesitation, he hopped over it, peering around with an unusually quiet interest. It was the first time since you had met Tendo that he had nothing to say, his already pale face seemingly devoid of color, making his vibrant, sleepy eyes pop out even more.

Groaning, you, Shirabu, and Goshiki stepped forward, dragging Yachi with you as you climbed over the turnstile as well. You couldn’t just let Tendo wander off into the dangerous park alone. The others followed suit, muffled whispers and conversations floating through the air as they spread out in the area.

The forest had started taking back over through the concrete, weeds and grass sprouting up through the cracks and pushing the cobblestones up and out of place. Vines of ivy and moss hung from the powerpoles, vendor booths, and some attractions further back, swaying in the gentle breeze. The buildings were dark inside, but through the gloom you could make out mannequins and shelves devoid of merchandise.

The bell dinged on the first one Tendo pushed open-- a souvenir shop. It was empty except for dust and garbage, as were the next few you entered.

Slowly but surely the group made their way further into the park, Yachi clinging onto you the whole time. Akaashi and Kuroo were right behind the two of you, Shirabu and Semi in front, forming a kind of guard while Tendo and Bokuto led the way. Kaori clung to Goshiki, who looked like he was putting on a brave front despite his pink cheeks and the nervousness in his eyes.

For all his grumbling, Shirabu looked interested as he eyed all the buildings and machinery. It was quiet, devoid even of the sound of birdsong or humming bugs, and it unsettled you.

“Oh look, it’s the pirate ship ride!” Bokuto yelled suddenly, breaking the deathly silence.

Everyone jumped, Shirabu hissing at him to shut up while Yukie shrieked, latching onto him. Bokuto had the decency to look abashed but still steered the group towards the derelict platform, testing his weight on the creaky metal stairs on his way up.

The deck of the ship was littered with leaves and dust, the seats worn down and showing stuffing and springs after however many years left in the element. There were signs of rust on the metal and the whole thing shifted slightly to emit a creak.

“Um, Bo, I don’t think that’s safe,” Kuroo called out, grabbing your arm to stop you from following up behind him.

Tendo and Goshiki were up beside him, examining the boat itself and, before anyone knew it, the former had hopped into it.

“Tendo!” Shirabu called, a trace of panic in his voice. His fingers were wrapped around the railing, paint flakes coming away under his touch hand as he prepared to spring up the stairs, but everyone’s eyes were locked on Tendo’s precarious creep down the middle aisle. “Get out of there before you get hurt, idiot!”

“It’s fine, Shirabu,” he called, now standing at the bow. “It’s kinda cool actually. I can see more of the park from here.”

Bokuto landed with a thump a moment later, a louder creak ringing out than when lanky Tendo had landed, and everyone took a collective breath and held it.

But as before, it held, and he joined Tendo up by the bow.

“Wow, he’s right!” he called, holding his hand above his eyes like a visor and peering out over the park. It was certainly bigger than he imagined for being in the middle of nowhere. “There’s a house over that way!”

“Probably the haunted house,” Tendo said, straining to see what Bokuto was looking at. In the distance were two stilted, twisted steeples painted in different hues. One was flamboyant and bright, the other dark and dreary, even compared to the state of disrepair of the rest of the park. “I see a funhouse too, I think. Looks pretty freaky. Wanna check ‘em out?”

“Hell yeah,” Bokuto shouted, whipping around to look at the rest of you.

Shirabu looked ready to blow a gasket, and Yachi looked ready to faint, but everyone else looked intrigued. Even you couldn’t help but be a little curious about it, having free range to explore the most interesting rides in the park. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to be able to see what they were like without restraint?

The sun was just beginning to fade behind the treeline, turning the clouds a thin shade of orange, but the lure of seeing something interesting had dissolved any real fear.

The two men met Goshiki on the platform and made their way back down to the rest of the group, eyes shining bright with the promise of adventure.

“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad!” Tendo said as if the stunt he just pulled hadn’t taken years off all your lives. Jumping haphazardly onto a decade old, rusted out death trap attraction at an abandoned amusement park hours from the nearest hospital wasn’t going to earn him any genius awards.

On the way towards the supposed attractions, you came across the carousel. Its metal panels were tarnished, the paint worn away from them and the animals, the mirrors grimy with dirt. Vines and ivy climbed up everywhere. The platform shifted when Kuroo stepped onto it, Tendo hot on his heels followed closely by Bokuto.

“Let’s go see, ‘Toka,” you said, tugging her forward by the hand. Kaori took your other one, squeezing, while Akaashi guided you with a gentle hand on your back.

“Look at this,” someone said, and you turned to find Semi holding a faded paper. “It looks like a poster claiming someone was kidnapping people.”

“How the hell is it still here?” Konoha asked, peering at it around Semi’s arm. “It should have disintegrated a long damn time ago.”

“Dunno,” Semi said with a frown. Trying to see the paper, you were crowded against Semi by Yachi and Kaori and flinched when you realized how hot he was. “It was wedged in the frame of the mirror.”

The whole thing was faded but still legible, due presumably to being tucked into the mirror, and appeared to be a flyer issued by the park itself.

Due to the recent disappearances, park security has been tightened. Please stay aware of your surroundings and report and suspicious activity immediately.

“You were right, Akaashi,” you said, glancing up at the man standing behind you. “They really did think someone was kidnapping people.”

“A lot of the people were never found,” Semi said, folding the sheet up neatly and tucking into his pocket. “It’s not surprising they thought that.”

“Ohhhh, maybe the bodies are still here,” Tendo said, wiggling his fingers over Konoha’s shoulders. “Maybe it was actually the workers kidnapping people and they kept the bodies in a secret place.”

“Like where?” Shirabu asked, giving him an exasperated, skeptical look. It was getting late and they were wasting time just hanging around. He wasn’t particularly thrilled at the idea of being in the park after dark, going to possibly the scariest attraction in the place, but if they were going to do it, they needed to just get it done. “The authorities probably tore this place apart looking for them.”

Tendo shrugged, looking thoughtful. “Maybe they hid them in the haunted house. Maybe there’s a hidden room somewhere that only the workers knew how to open.”

“Could you not?” Yukie asked, slapping Tendo on the arm. “We’re going there, in case you forgot, pea brain. Way to freak us out.”

Yachi was clinging onto Kaori now, staring at Tendo with wide, frightened eyes and he almost looked repentant.

“Or, you know, could be anywhere. The haunted house would be a pretty obvious place to hide it, wouldn’t it?” he said, rubbing the back of his head. Beckoning to Yachi, she went reluctantly, letting Tendo tuck her under his arm. “Don’t worry, Yach. I’ll protect you, ‘kay?”

You and Kaori snickered at the shade of red her face turned, and Shirabu sighed.

“Can we just get going before it gets too late?” he asked, turning and leading the way down the path. The shadows were slowly lengthening, orange mixing with shades of pink and purple in the sky.

Semi fell into step beside you, Yukie on your other side. Goshiki and Konoha were having a conversation about the derelict rollercoaster to the right, and you allowed your attention to drift to it. It was eerie, the faded paint and rusted metal tracks looming like a foreboding beacon above you. Staring the way you were, your foot caught a displaced cobblestone and you went sprawling with a yelp.

Before you could smack the ground, a strong, warm hand wrapped around your upper arm and hauled you back up. It hurt, causing a sharp ache in your shoulder, but it still hurt less than the concrete probably would have. Looking up at your savior, you gave him a half smile.

“Thanks, Semi,” you said, rubbing your shoulder.

But he was frowning at you-- not that that was any different than the look he’d worn all day-- but this one was marred by soft concern. “Are you alright? You’re awfully cold.”

“O-Oh. No, I’m fine. Just got distracted by the coaster,” you said, giggling in embarrassment. “It is a bit chilly though, now that you mention it. I didn’t notice.”

There was a moment's hesitation, then the sound of a zipper being drawn down. A weight settled across your shoulders, surrounding you with an unfamiliar cologne, and your cheeks heated up at the realization that he had given you his jacket.

“That’s okay, Semi, really,” you said, shrugging the jacket off. “It isn’t that bad, and it’s my own fault. I left mine in the car.”

“No worries, _____,” he said, and for the first time you could see a small smile on his face in the dim light. “I’m not cold, so you can take it.”

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you said, pulling it back around your shoulders. It was warm and you smiled when you caught him looking at you. He was wearing a peculiar look, kind but almost possessive, and he licked his lips once before looking forward again.

You shivered, unsure if you were just seeing things. The park had rattled your nerves and Semi was just being nice. You didn’t know him well enough to make a judgement call like that and forced down the uneasiness, taking your place beside him again.

“Smooth move, klutz,” Konoha quipped, nudging your back. Goshiki and Shirabu snickered and you flipped them off over your shoulder, looping your other arm with Yukie.

The steepled spires of the haunted house came into view, beside which stood the funhouse, like Tendo said. Both looked terrifying in the dying light of the sun. Like everything else, the paint was almost gone, shingles missing from the roofs which were adorned with holes.

Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed Semi’s arm, pressing yourself to it. He glanced at you for a moment, a soft smile flitting across his face before looking at Tendo, who was staring between the two buildings.

“I wanna go in the funhouse,” Tendo said, turning back to the rest of the group. Setting his hands on his hips, he looked around at everyone. “Should we go as a group?” Kuroo shifted, pointing his feet towards the haunted house. “I kinda wanna go in there, actually.”

“Well no one should go anywhere alone,” Shirabu said firmly, and everyone nodded in agreement. If someone got hurt, no one would know for ages and then there was the long ride back on top of it.

“So we’ll split up. Everyone pick a house,” Tendo said, clapping his hands.

Yukie’s arm around yours disappeared and she scurried over to Tendo, looking at you apologetically. Yachi took her place instead, looking for all the world like she was going to collapse from fright, and you gave her a concerned look.

“I’m going wherever you go,” she said, and you raised a brow.

Before you could answer, Kuroo’s arm slung around your shoulders, looming over Yachi’s tiny form. “It looks like everyone’s decided. Pretty even split. Let’s meet back here in--” He checked his watch. “Two hours? That should be enough time to see everything.”

You opened your mouth to object, but Tendo nodded while Shirabu set the timer on his watch. “Everyone be careful, please. We really can’t afford any injuries.”

Yachi looked up at the dark house looming before you while the other group made their way towards the funhouse.

You could hear Tendo’s voice echo back, saying, “That’s the reason we have you here, Shirabu. You’re a doctor and all.”

Shirabu said something in return, but it was lost in the distance as you were herded towards the haunted house. The doors hung open, swinging in the breeze and creaking. It seemed like the house sucked all the warmth from the air the closer you got to it, and you squeezed Semi’s arm in yours.

“Scared, princess?” Kuroo whispered in your ear, raising the hairs on the back of your neck when his warm breath met your cold skin. “You shouldn’t be. We’re here with you.”

The steps leading into it sagged beneath your weight, the wood softer than it should’ve been and it came as no surprise when one broke beneath Semi’s weight. He cursed while you and Yachi pulled back, keeping him from falling over and potentially hurting himself. It took Akaashi and Kuroo both to pull him up out of the hole and a quick check revealed his jeans had protected his leg.

“Are you alright?” you whispered, looking up into Semi’s unamused face. He was wearing a hard scowl, his grip on you iron clad now as he guided you up the steps.

“Sure,” he said, eyes softening when he looked down at you. “Just annoyed.”

Inside, the light from your phones seemed to be swallowed by the darkness. The dust was thick and the air musty and humid. Cobwebs hung from everything, casting long shadows into the darkness beyond the halo of your flashlights.

Yachi yelped, tripping over a rotted track board and would have dragged you down if you weren’t holding onto Semi so tightly. His heat was almost a comfort now, driving away the persistent chill that seemed to emanate from the ramshackle walls. You couldn’t tell where the fabricated deterioration ended and true rot began.

“This way then?” Akaashi asked, leading the way into the first door. It was the kitchen area, set up to look like a butcher shop. A thick layer of dust settled over everything, motes flurrying through the painfully white light from your phones in an eerie dance that made it even harder to see.

Old props lay on the worn countertops, splotches of what was likely-- hopefully-- fake blood a dark black on the faded wood and laminate. Someone had a hand on your back while Akaashi examined a chain hanging from the ceiling, something hanging from the end of it. It made a strange noise when he pushed it, a crackly, grinding noise like it was rusty. It wouldn’t be a surprise, with the humidity as high as it is.

“That’s a little unsettling,” Kuroo admitted, and you all jumped when a loud crash rang out somewhere further down.

“Now would be the time to leave if we were in a horror movie,” you hinted through gritted teeth, even as Kuroo stepped back out into the hall. He scanned the darkness, his phone hanging by his side, the light pointed towards the floor. “What do you expect to see anyway, genius?”

He turned back to wink before disappearing into the dark and you groaned, straining your eyes to see anything. His light was lost in the gloom and you released Yachi’s arm, taking a step forward. Semi allowed himself to be dragged along with you while Goshiki held Yachi, petting her hair as she whimpered.

Swearing, you and Semi trudged down the hallway, listening for any noises but heard nothing besides the sounds of an old building settling. Your voice caught in your throat when you opened your mouth to call for Kuroo, your ire failing in the face of the oppressive darkness in the heart of the house. Swiping a cobweb off your face, you shined your phone around, lighting up a destroyed living room area, two hallways, and a staircase.

“You don’t think he went upstairs, do you?” Semi whispered, following your line of sight.

Swallowing, you said, “God I fuckin’ hope not. This is so creepy, can’t we just leave him?”

He chuckled against his will, a quiet, rough noise as he tried to stifle it. “‘Fraid not. I don’t wanna deal with the cops.”

Heaving a sigh, you pointed the light down to the floor and found no sign of footprints in the thick dust. Flashing it behind you, you saw your own and Semi’s clearly visible and frowned. “Hey, look.”

Semi scoured the floor, waving his light all around you. “He definitely came this way.”

Nodding, you pointed the light back in front of you, down the hallway, but it was unable to break more than a few inches of darkness. “Okay, now I’m really freaked out. Where is he?”

New light joined your meager one, shuffling footsteps coming to a stop just behind you.

Akaashi’s hand landed on your shoulder, peering over your head at where you were staring.

“This way,” Semi said after a moment of silence. It was broken only by Yachi’s occasional sniffle and you wondered if you shouldn’t just return to the front door and let Semi and Akaashi handle the rescue. But gentle pressure on your arm and shoulder guided you down, sniffling at the dust before you broke out into a sneeze.

The floor creaked beneath your feet, making the already eerie feeling worse as you crept down the hall. There were faded, torn paintings lining the walls, a few false doors, and windows painted black and boarded up. You couldn’t tell if the paint peeling up the walls was due to age or intent, but it certainly didn’t help settle your unease.

“Careful,” Semi said suddenly, jerking you sideways into him. The cold hand slid off your shoulder and a light revealed a hole in the middle of the floor, where you had been about to step.

“Thanks,” you breathed, swallowing harshly. The dust was starting to sting your eyes and you repressed another sneeze, rubbing your nose.

Skirting around the hole, it opened into another room, what appeared to be a library. Overstuffed armchairs littered the room, the shelves lining the walls stacked with what were likely fake books. There was no sign of Kuroo, but Semi led you further into the room carefully.

He wasn’t careful enough, though.

Once second you were clinging to him, the next you heard a crack and then you were experiencing the most curious sensation. Your stomach swooped as the light disappeared, and you realized belatedly that you were falling. Something warm, almost scalding wrapped around you, and your fall stopped short with a grunt of impact.

You lay there stunned for several long moments, head spinning and heart beating hard enough that you could feel it in your ears. The dark was only furthering your disorientation and you only realized you were laying on something when it moved beneath you.

Sitting up, you felt something slump over your shoulders before coughing filled your ears.

“Semi?” you whispered hoarsely. Above you, you registered screaming and looked up only to be blinded by light.

Semi grunted behind you but didn’t move, breathing heavy against your back. From above, you could hear muted conversation before the shrieking stopped.

“_____, Semi, are you both okay?” Akaashi’s concerned voice reached your ringing ears, and you nodded in response.

It took you a moment to realize he probably couldn’t see you, calling up, “Yeah, I think so. Semi--”

“‘M fine,” he yelled, though he sounded winded.

“Are you sure?” you asked, wrapping a hand around the wrist dangling in front of you. A few feet away lay your phone, face down, the light muted but visible, and you sighed in relief. “You caught me, are you sure*?”

Semi chuckled, a rough noise. “Yeah, I’m sure. Trust me.”

“You guys stay there,” Akaashi commanded, then turned back to Goshiki and Yachi to say something. “I’ll find a way down to you.”

He disappeared and you scrambled forward, snatching your phone up. Moving back to the relative safety of Semi’s presence, you shined it around.

The basement, you decided upon seeing the array of monster props and torture machines, was perhaps the most terrifying part of the house. It was only heightened by your adrenaline rush, the shadows seeming to jump out to your paranoid mind.

As the adrenaline wore off, you took stock of your extremities. Semi really had cushioned you-- nothing hurt-- and you turned to face him.

In the light, he really did look fine, even his breathing had evened out, and he looked back at you with a smirk. “Told you. I’m tougher than you think.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” you admitted, getting to your feet. You didn’t let Semi get far, linking your arm with his and clinging to him, much to his amusement.

His eyes adjusted to the dark faster than yours and he located his phone near the base of a rusty filing cabinet. The screen was cracked-- which he cursed-- but it still worked, and he turned the flashlight back on.

“This is creepy as fuck,” he muttered, thumping the model of a skeletal doctor to see the dust swirl. There was a medical table in the center of the room with a light looming over it. He assumed there was supposed to be a body laying on said table and, in the dark, it was a scary thought that it was no longer there. “I hope Akaashi hurries up. I don’t like it here.”

You couldn’t stifle the small giggle, though you covered your mouth in a poor attempt. It was the nerves, you were sure, because as he moved away you held tighter, stumbling after him. He tried one door, the handle stiff enough that you recognized it to be fake. There was a set of metal double doors on the other side of the room and those swung open with an eerie grinding noise, scraping across the concrete floor.

The hallways extended to either direction, cells lining the wall in front of you and you shuddered. “Let’s go, Semi, please,” you begged, tugging him down to the left. It was the same direction that you had come from on the floor above and hoped that it would lead you to a staircase or something*.

Semi went along reluctantly, flashing his light in all the cells you passed. Most were empty, besides the occasional bed or other prop. Some contained chains mounted in the wall and his eyes flashed to you.

The hallway opened up into what may have been a waiting room if most of the furniture hadn’t been utterly destroyed. As you scanned the area, there was a noise from up ahead and you jerked to a stop, scurrying back to Semi’s side. Peeking around him while he stared down the hall, you kept a tight grip on his arm, feeling the muscles flex and tense beneath your hand. A shadow moved in the light and you nearly screamed as Kuroo stepped into view, followed closely by Akaashi.

Neither carried a light and your heart leapt in your throat when you caught a momentary flash of light reflecting off of Kuroo’s eyes before it disappeared.

Still hiding behind Semi, the four of you regarded each other in silence for a moment, before Kuroo chuckled.

“Well, this is certainly convenient, though I didn’t expect you to get involved,” he said, leaning sideways against the wall. He looked as relaxed as usual while Akaashi lurked behind him, staring at you peeking around Semi’s arm.

He held out a hand to you but you held back, suddenly unsure of Kuroo’s words. With your heart in your throat, you looked up into Semi’s relaxed, impassive face. He made no moves, just watched the other two linger in front of your only escape route.

Then he shrugged.

“Dumb luck.”

The men burst into laughter and you squeaked, taking a step back from Semi. Before you could get anywhere, his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you forward.

“Easy, kitten. We don’t wanna hurt you,” Kuroo said, stepping further into the room. His eyes lit up once again in the light from your flashlight, mischievous brown turning solid gold. His pupils narrowed and elongated, his smile seeming to become more sharp as he stared down at you.

You breathed in sharply, taking a step back into Semi’s chest. Regardless of whether he was in on whatever they had planned, he was the safest option as opposed to whatever the hell Kuroo was.

The grip on your wrist loosened but came to your shoulders instead, keeping you in place with a warning squeeze. You had already guessed he was tough, given he had taken the full brunt of the impact earlier, but you now suspected he wasn’t human either.

Akaashi came forward last, looking as placid and calm as ever, cold fingertips stroking down your cheek.

You shivered.

None of these men were human, if you had to hazard a guess. Staring up at them, you felt your heart drop.

“W-Where are ‘Toka and Goshiki?” you asked, and were proud that your voice barely cracked. Maybe if you reminded them people would be looking for you, they would back off, allowing you to escape.

Kuroo chuckled, flipping the zipper of your-- Semi’s-- jacket up in what would have been a cute manner under different circumstances. “Keiji here sent them looking for the others in the funhouse, but they’ll never find the doorway down here. Tendo was right, there are lots of hidden doors in this place.”

“What are you? What are you going to-- to d-do to me?” you asked quickly, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as he started to tug the zipper down. You were stalling at best, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. If there was any chance of escape, you couldn’t figure it out. You had no idea where this door was and you had the impression you wouldn’t be able to outrun them anyway.

“I don’t suppose it would hurt to tell you,” he answered, taking a step closer. You tried to shrink away, huddling down into Semi’s oversized jacket, but it only seemed to entice them. “I am a yokai, I assume you know what that is? Akaashi is your run of the mill demon.”

If that offended Akaashi, he didn’t show it, simply widening his smile and blinking slowly. His once serene blue eyes turned pitch black and when he blinked again, they were normal.

“I’m just a werewolf,” Semi said, breathing against your ear. His hands slid down, catching the zipper of his jacket between his fingers and drawing the zipper down slowly.

“W-Wait, please,” you tried, grabbing and tugging at his wrist to no avail. He was far stronger, and you were like a fly in comparison. “Please, can we just go?”

Kuroo cupped your cheek, a moderate temperature compared to the other two, and his smile seemed to soften a fraction. “No, kitten. Keiji and I have been waiting for this for far too long. The wolf probably just likes how you smell.”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but the deep, pointed inhale Semi took against your neck seemed to verify the statement. The jacket fell to the floor with barely a whisper and then your phone was placed face up on a table, beside the men’s, and the combined light filled the room.

It felt like you couldn’t get enough air as warm hands skimmed down your stomach, stretching the soft fabric of your t-shirt out, before settling on your hips. Lips met your neck, tentative at first, trailing up to your jaw, causing you to shiver.

The heat radiating off of Semi and Kuroo was getting to you, Semi’s soft lips flitting over pleasure spots causing your back to arch. You didn’t want to like it, but when Kuroo’s hands slipped up your shirt and over your ribs, your muscles tensed in unwanted arousal. Your nipples were already peaking inside your bra, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the first graze of teeth on your skin.

“W-Wa-ait--” you breathed and, for a moment, you thought they really would stop because they both paused.

It was over in a moment, a soft kiss pressed to your other cheek as Kuroo pushed your bra up over your tits. His hands were soft as they cupped the tender flesh, giving gentle squeezes that went straight to your core, as much as you protested. “Not gonna happen, kitten. May as well enjoy it. We’ll take good care of you.”

A new sensation joined the heat surrounding you then, Kuroo moving to the side to allow Akaashi to join in. His hands were cold compared to the other two, one on your side and one cupping your unoccupied breast. The difference was enough to make you gasp, back arching on its own into their touch, and they at least had the decency not to snicker.

“You really do smell good, princess,” Semi whispered in your ear, nipping the lobe. “I can smell everything, even how wet you’re getting for us.”

Craning your neck away from him only opened you up to another smattering of kisses and you hated that he was right. They were getting to you, their gentle touches on your body doing everything right, like they had been your lovers for years rather than men you just met today. It made it harder to think than it already was, mind still racing in a futile effort to formulate some way to escape, but even you could recognize your body giving up.

Your shirt came up and over your head, disappearing somewhere outside of your vision. There was a collective intake from the men in front of you, and Semi groaned over your shoulder.

“I knew you would be so pretty, kitten,” Kuroo cooed, palming one tit again. He relished in the way you twitched when he pinched your nipple, then he cupped both, bouncing and watching them jiggle. “Been watching you all day, we couldn’t wait to get our hands on you.”

Akaashi was the first to lean over, wrapping cool lips around one pert bud, and Kuroo stepped back to watch your teeth sink into your lip to stifle any noises.

“Feel good, princess?” Semi asked, and chuckled when you shook your head. “It will soon, then. We won’t hurt you. Just wanna make you feel good.”

The worst part was, you were beginning to enjoy it. It was so tempting to cave, to just let them have their way with you. They were gentle, surprisingly so, and it was knocking down whatever resistance you had left at an alarming rate.

Semi’s hands were almost scalding against your sides, squeezing and kneading as he suckled at your neck, feeling you whine in your throat. “There you go. Just let go.”

The clasp of your bra came loose, and you weren’t even sure who had done it, before it was slid down your arms and dumped, presumably with your shirt.

There were two sets of lips attached to each nipple, your nails digging into your palms to keep from tangling your fingers in someone’s hair but you were losing the will to fight. Your panties were embarrassingly wet, no matter how much your mind insisted you didn’t like it, and you broke your silence when cold fingers drifted down to undo the button of your jeans.

“No please,” you begged, wiggling your hips in your first real display of resistance. Hands clamped down to still them in an iron grip, and a hand clasped your jaw, forcing you to look Kuroo in the eyes.

“What wrong, kitten? You’ve been so good up til now,” he said, stroking your lower lip with his thumb. There were imprints of your teeth in the skin, and he ached to kiss you, but it would have to wait.

“I-I don’t w-want--” you stuttered, tears burning the corners of your eyes as your zipper was pulled down.

Semi interrupted you then, tilting your head just so that he could kiss the corner of your mouth, smirking. “She’s embarrassed because of how wet she is.” Dropping his voice to barely a whisper, he said, “I can smell you, princess. You want this, don’t deny it.”

Shaking your head feebly, you whined when Semi pressed his lips to your cheek, dangerously close to your lips again. It was enough to distract you from your jeans sliding down your legs, until they pooled at your ankles and Akaashi had to tug your shoes off. Your jeans hit the floor shortly afterwards, the air startlingly cool against your now bare skin only to be covered with warmth as the men caged you in again.

It started with two fleeting touches to your inner thighs, which you tried to stop by squeezing them together only for them to pried apart in an instant. Semi took the opportunity to lay another languid kiss to the corner of your mouth, tongue flicking out against your lips.

For a moment, you turned into it only to jerk away, looking in the opposite direction. You knew what they were trying to do and you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of hearing you beg for something you didn’t want. You wondered briefly where the others were and why you could hear nothing from above, until warm hands cupped your tits again.

You bit down on your lip again when Semi circled your nipples with his thumbs, massaging your breasts as he rolled them between his fingers. It was hard to keep quiet when it felt so good, especially when Kuroo and Akaashi were teasing your inner thighs, so close your aching cunt.

Your hips rocked of their own accord, your mind too preoccupied with the warm touches on your tender nipples and stifling your noises, but all three of your attackers smirked.

“Ask, pretty girl,” Akaashi said, speaking for the first time.

His voice combined with his fleeting, cold touch against the soaked lips of your cunt caused a gasp to break free, hips rolling up in a jerky manner against your will. Your ears burned when they laughed and your teeth sank into your lip again. It was driving you insane, they were so close but you refused to beg for it.

“Aw, did we upset you, kitten?” Kuroo cooed, placing a wet kiss against your hip. “We’re sorry. You’re just so cute we can’t help it. Come on, ask us. Ask us to touch this pretty little pussy and we’ll make it up to you.”

Another swipe across your clit timed with a tug on your nipples broke the seal a second time.

“S-Semi--”

“There she goes,” Semi whispered, tilting your head around to look at him. Tears were spilling down your cheeks as you looked up at him with wide, resigned eyes. His eyes dropped to your parted lips for a moment and you swallowed, blinking the tears away, but didn’t struggle.

The first kiss was tentative, tongue ghosting between your parted lips to test you for a reaction. You only whined into the kiss, leaning in and he delved into your mouth, tongue lapping at yours as he tasted you.

When he pulled away, you hiccupped, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you closed your eyes.

“Please, just touch me. Fuck me, do whatever. I can’t--” you whispered, thighs aching from how tense you had been for god knew how long. It was too much to hold out, not when you were so wet and aching for it anyway. They knew what they were doing, their gentle teasing and buildup working to break down any fight you had and it had worked flawlessly.

You melted into Semi as Kuroo lifted one leg over his shoulder. Akaashi left a trail of cool kisses down your inner thigh while Kuroo kissed up the opposite one. You didn’t know whether to tremble or whine, so you did both when his nose bumped your clit, and they chuckled again.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it, pretty girl?” Akaashi asked, and you might have mistook it for affection in another situation. “Just relax.”

As if you had a choice. Hot breathe puffed across your folds, teasing just a little more until you were practically dripping on his lips. Only then did his tongue swipe across your clit, your hips jerking harshly. His hot tongue was replaced with a cold one, the two of them taking turns lapping at your clit at such a languid pace that it was more torturous than not being touched at all.

“Fuck, please, stop teasing,” you cried, voice cracking as your back arched. You were desperate at this point, willing to beg or do whatever they wanted. You weren’t getting out of it without doing so anyway, so you might as well enjoy it. “Kuroo, Akaashi, please.”

A sharp pinch to your nipples made you squeal just before Semi devoured your mouth. You could feel the aggravation in the kiss, the way his teeth clacked against yours and his tongue pressed against yours. You made muffled noises against him, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair.

At the same time, Kuroo latched onto your clit properly, and your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head as you rocked your hips against his feverish suckling. The noises he was making filled the quiet space, grunts and would-be moans that terminated against your clit as he worked to make you cum.

Your head was starting to spin from lack of oxygen and intense pleasure. Kuroo wasn’t giving you an inch and your slick hole fluttered around nothing, until something swirled around your entrance before slipping in.

You forgot about the kiss, Semi’s lips hovering against yours as you came with a cry around cold fingers. The temperature difference between Akaashi’s fingers and Kuroo’s lips was mind numbing, your eyelids flickering, trying to stay open before giving in. You didn’t bother to be quiet, letting your moans bounce off the walls. Maybe it would draw the others to you, and you could still get out of this.

Instead of withdrawing his fingers, Akaashi slipped another one in beside the first, kitten licking your still sensitive clit and listening to you whine for him to “Stop, please, too much.” He only smirked, continuing to lap until you relaxed, though the stream of noises never stopped.

There was a moment of hesitation as Kuroo stood, cocking his head in Semi’s direction. With your attention on your throbbing clit and Akaashi’s almost icy touch, you missed the way Semi beckoned to him. Their lips met briefly, allowing Semi to get a taste of you on his lips before Semi dragged him into a deeper one, tongues meeting in a heated tangle. Both men were hard, Semi grinding his clothed erection against the cheek of your ass, the chafing fabric unnoticed against your soft skin.

You squirmed against him when Akaashi crooked his fingers just right inside you, grazing over the swollen sweet spot inside you again and again until you were on the verge of another orgasm. It seemed like no matter how long his fingers stayed inside you, they never heated up. You weren’t even sure if the cold of his tongue flicking over your clit was pleasurable or not but it was such constant pressure that you hurtled towards your second orgasm. Kuroo was quick to stifle it, delving into your mouth for you to taste what remained of you on his tongue.

You came with a cry, convulsing around Akaashi’s fingers for a second time so hard you became light headed. He continued to pet that spot inside you until you were squirming to get away, tugging roughly at his hair.

Your legs shook when he let you down, only Semi’s strong grip keeping you upright. The sound of belt buckles clanging brought you down quickly, and trepidation set your heart racing again. There was no stopping it, but you found yourself trying to back up anyway.

“Ah,” Kuroo tutted, taking you from Semi’s arm and kissing the crown of your head like he was comforting you. “Don’t start that. We aren’t going to hurt you, kitten.”

No, they certainly hadn’t yet, and you had no choice but to trust his words. Something hard pressed against your ass, hotter even than the rest of Semi. You instinctively jerked away, pressing into Kuroo only to feel something slip between your thighs.

“Excited, aren’t we?” Kuroo drawled, and you could feel the condescension dripping off of him. Semi pressed to your back again, shielding you from the cold, while Kuroo asked, “How are we gonna take her? Semi, you kinda threw a wrench in things, can’t lie.”

Semi shrugged against your back, letting his cock settle between your thighs. You whined, jerking your hips instinctively away from the heat against your folds, but it only served to make him grind into you.

“I want this sweet cunt,” Semi snarled, cupping your jaw in a tight grip and tilting your head away, baring your throat to him. He licked a stripe from your shoulder to just beneath your ear before kissing the soft skin, and you shivered at the possessiveness in his tone.

“Alright, wolfboy smells a mate,” Kuroo said, rolling his eyes. “Akaashi?”

The last of the trio stepped forward again, skimming his fingers down your cheek before leaning in to steal a kiss. “I’m okay with whatever you want, Kuroo. Just wanna feel her around me.”

There was something dark in his eyes that belied his passive words. He was deferring to Kuroo to get things moving, you were almost sure. Like the rest of him, his cock was cool against your thigh, more like a glass dildo you kept at home than a cock attached to a man.

“That makes things easy then,” Kuroo said, clapping his hands and giving you that mischievous smile. If you didn’t know any better-- you didn’t-- you would say his teeth were a little sharper, the canines more pronounced than before. His eyes certainly hadn’t changed, maintaining that almost glowing golden color this whole time. “Semi, lay on the couch. Keiji, you can take her from behind. I want her mouth.”

He sounded like he was giving out instructions to his employees rather than fucking a very reluctant person, but the other two followed his instructions without question. It was an odd sensation, to be talked about as if you weren’t there, as if you had no say over what was happening to you.

Not that you did.

It wasn’t until you were straddling Semi that you realized something. In addition to being hotter than average, he was larger than average, peeking out from between your folds to drip precum just below his bellybutton. The way your stomach swooped made you nauseous and tears fell down your cheeks all over again.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he asked, wiping them away as best he could. You wouldn’t be fooled by the concern in his tone; he wouldn’t stop anyway.

You turned your face away only to jump when a finger slipped your cunt, cool to the touch, followed by a second, only to be removed a second later. They moved instead to your slick rear entrance, circling and massaging until it gave way, eased by your previous orgasms. You fell forward, bracing yourself over Semi, who held your rocking hips still. Two fingers filled you, the stretch no more than a sting but it was uncomfortable nonetheless when you didn’t want it.

Akaashi’s other hand came down, long fingers wrapping around your throat just beneath your chin, pulling you back up to your knees. “Good girl,” he whispered in your ear before forcing your head around so he could capture your lips.

They parted naturally when his tongue glided across them, allowing him access without thought. You couldn’t place his taste; it was like he’d just eaten ice before kissing you, and you moaned into it.

Kuroo, who until then had been content to watch, groaned and stood from the dilapidated chair he had been lounging in. One hand wrapped around your wrist, moving your hand to wrap around his aching cock, desperate for some kind of relief. Your palm was soft against him, and he spit on it twice for good measure before allowing you to curl your fingers around him again. They did so automatically, squeezing tight and he hissed through gritted teeth, slit pupils narrowing further as he watched Akaashi’s tongue delve into your mouth like he wanted his cock to.

All the while, Semi was forcing you to slide along his shaft, slow, calculated moves designed to drag your clit back and forth against him. He could feel you trembling above him, your hands curled into fists against his chest, hips moving with his hands. You dripped down his cock, covering him in your slick and he almost growled at the heady scent. Unlike the other two, he could smell how bad you wanted it and it was driving him wild.

“Akaashi, hurry up,” he snapped, digging his nails into your soft hips hard enough to leave marks if he wasn’t careful.

Akaashi hummed in disapproval, pulling from your mouth to stare impassively at the werewolf. “I don’t want to hurt her, Semi.”

Yet, he withdrew his fingers and you whined at the loss.

“Finally,” Semi hissed, helping Akaashi lift you up so he could slick his cock up against your cunt before settling against your rear hole. “You go first.”

Your toes curled tight enough to cramp as Akaashi gave you a warning nudge before splitting you open. Your jaw dropped, eyes widening as you stared up into the cobwebbed ceiling, waiting for him to bottom out. Thighs trembling in Semi’s hold, you fell back against Akaashi’s chest as his hips met your ass.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he whispered, leaving cool kisses along your shoulder and neck. Goosebumps were raising up your arms and back, and he would have felt bad if you weren’t squeezing around his cock so tight while Semi positioned himself at your dripping hole.

You couldn’t decide if you really wanted two cocks, weren’t sure if you could even take two, but Semi was stretching you so wide you were crying out broken babbles none of them could make out as he seated you flush against his hips. You twitched above him, fluttered around him, squeezed rhythmically while you tried weakly to get away.

The sensation of fullness was one you had never experienced before. Even just Semi’s cock was more than you had ever taken, let alone Akaashi’s cock in your inexperienced asshole. You blinked rapidly, unable to decide if you liked it or not before a hand wound in your hair and you were pulled down.

Kuroo’s cock bobbed in your face and your jaw dropped automatically, allowing him to smear precum around your lips. He was more salty than bitter as he slipped into your mouth, stuffing himself as far as he could before you started gagging. Pulling back, he gave you a small reprieve to gasp for air before filling your mouth again. There was no fighting his thrusts, you had to force your throat to relax or choke. A mix of drool and tears spilled down your chin as a thick vein dragged against your tongue, dripping off to the floor. In the back of your foggy mind you were disgusted.

When they felt you relax around Kuroo’s cock, his hips moving in a steady rhythm to fuck your throat, Akaashi and Semi moved.

You spasmed around Kuroo when Semi lifted you up and dropped you back down, your hips meeting with a wet slap, his cock stifling your scream. Akaashi pulled out then, a little more careful as he stuffed himself back in, but the constant push and pull of their hips soon spread fire through your body. Kuroo was heavy on your tongue, Semi and Akaashi bumping and grinding against each other through the thin wall separating your cunt and ass, Semi’s curls stimulating your throbbing, sensitive clit.

You couldn’t fathom how you were careening towards a third orgasm, but Semi’s cock was so thick he couldn’t help but drag along the swollen, gummy sweet spot inside you. Akaashi’s low, pleasured moans in your ear gave you a vague sense of pride. These gorgeous men wanted you, were moaning for you.

It was enough to make you forget this wasn’t right.

Kuroo thought you were moaning, your throat vibrating around his cock as he facefucked you with abandon. The tight sleeve of your throat only grew tighter when Akaashi’s hand slipped between your legs to pet your clit and Kuroo grunted.

“Keep that up, kitten, and you’re gonna make me cum,” he said, holding your nose down in his curls for a few seconds just to feel you spasm around him.

Semi and Akaashi felt the benefits of it, both your holes clenching around them as you gagged. Semi took the opportunity to grind deep inside you, rolling his hips up so that he pushed against your cervix.

Your thighs trembled around him, a squeal stifled around Kuroo’s cock as you came hard, jerking in Semi’s hold. He snarled, bouncing you on his cock with abandon as Akaashi slammed into you, spreading your clenching hole without care as he moaned.

Kuroo grunted, pumping into your mouth a few more times before pressing your nose into his pelvis and cumming, his lips parted in an ‘o’ and his head tipping back. You had no choice but to swallow until he pulled out and spilled the remnant all over your face, smirking as it mixed with your tears and drool to drip off your chin.

Semi’s back arched off the couch, strong hands pulling you down to sit flush with his hips as he spilled inside you. Your eyes grew wide at the intense heat filling your womb, the warmth rushing up through you at the same time Akaashi came in your ass. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as his cum offset the heat of Semi’s, and your vision swam for a moment from overstimulation.

Semi caught you as you collapsed forward, cradling you to his chest regardless of the mess, petting your hair.

Akaashi slipped out of you, sharing a small smirk with Kuroo as he sought out your clothes.

“Give me my shirt,” Semi said, catching it from the air when Akaashi threw it. He forced you to sit up, watching you sway with a twisted sense of pride, and wiped the mess from your face. Akaashi and Kuroo took you from there, helping you to dress while you leaned against them, unable to keep from snickering at the state they’d left you in.

“Can you walk, kitten?” Kuroo asked, setting his hands on your shoulders. “Or do you need someone to carry you?”

“I-I can w-walk,” you stuttered, throat raspy. You frowned and grabbed it, swallowing with a wince.

“Good girl,” Kuroo said, dropping a kiss on your lips and smirked when you leaned after him as he pulled away. “We don’t need to worry about you telling anyone, do we?”

Shaking your head, you allowed Semi to wrap an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to bathe in his warmth as Kuroo led the way up the hidden stairs a little ways down the hall they had been blocking earlier. At the top of the stairs, you could hear voices calling your names and perked up, trying to follow the echoes in the darkness.

“This way,” Kuroo said, leading the way though there wasn’t a speck of light in sight. Your own phone was tucked safely in the pocket of Semi’s jacket, which he had taken back. “Keiji, give me your phone. Appearances.”

Right, couldn’t let the humans know.

Everyone crowded around you, throwing questions all at once, until Shirabu lost his temper. He insisted on looking you and Semi over, just to determine for sure nothing was the matter.

He seemed a little concerned by how out of it you were, and asked if you hit your head.

Three sets of eyes landed on you, all carrying a different weight as they waited for you to speak.

“Just tired, Shirabu,” you murmured, hiding your face in Semi’s side. “It took ages for them to find us. Can we go home now?”

The tension eased, though you kept your face hidden, allowing him to guide you blindly down the hallway.

It was even colder outside than earlier, and Kuroo took over the spot on your other side, gently shooing Yachi towards the other. She had insisted on keeping you company, watching you with wide, worried eyes while Akaashi and Kuroo whispered together behind her.

Even now, she watched the way the three men hovered around you with curious concern. They treated you like a precious object-- or a possession that needed to be protected.

You nodded in response to something Kuroo said, trying-- if possible-- to curl even closer into Semi. Akaashi hovered in the background, pretty face as impassive as ever until he caught Yachi looking at him.

His lips curled up in a smile, his face softening ever so slightly, and she relaxed. Whatever had happened to you down there, it seemed to spark something in the three men.

Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been that bad.

#🖤.kuroo #🖤.akaashi #🖤.semi #tw noncon #tw reluctance

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matildashoney · 3 years

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𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 // 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ~ 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ~ 𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 ~ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @doubtfulwelshie, @meetmymouth, @theluketomypatterson, @morethanamelodyy, @hoodhoran, @nevertoooldtodancelikeamaniac, @rainbowparadiseharry, @glitterandharry, @summertimestyles, @millenial-teenybopper, @6616617228, @burberryharold, @jesusidontcare1

.・゜゜・ Harry .・゜゜・　

Step left. Duck. Step right. Punch.

Step left. Block. Step right. Go for the gold.

The freedom of releasing bottled up anger loomed over Harry’s head, stimulating his need to showcase his overt power. Punch after punch after punch, delivered to his opponent's body and face, fueling the anguish he felt in his veins and the fury in his brain.

“Okay! Harry, that’s enough!” a voice calls, but, naturally, Harry doesn’t listen. His ears are ringing, deafening anything outside of his own mind. Not that he can hear his own thoughts anyway as he blows hit after hit at Ryan, imagining it’s someone else he’s beating up instead.

His heart is racing as fast as his mind is swirling, his breaths shortening as his arms continue their relentless action on Dear Ryan, who can do nothing but just take it. “Harry!”

Then, there was the numbness. He felt arms tug him back forcefully, landing Harry right on his ass as he came to, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. Harry blinked once, then twice, then three times before taking a look around him. Mack, his trainer, was standing over him, a look of anger mixed with concern etched over his features as he gestured to the man laying flat on his back, spitting blood out of his mouth.

Only for a moment, remorse coursed through Harry’s body, because the last he remembered, they were both standing. It wasn’t the first time he’s lost control of his rage, and he was sorry that Ryan had to deal with the consequences of that, but at the same time, Harry didn’t give a single shit because it was Ryan’s job to play punching bag.

“Do you wanna explain this?” Mack questions, helping Ryan up so he can go take a breather and get a look at his nose from the doctor. “Fuck, Harry, any more and you could’ve done serious damage to the poor kid.”

Harry hoisted himself up, rolling his eyes as he tugged his gloves off his hands. “Do you want me to win tonight? I sort of need to punch the shit out of people to do that.”

Mack stares at Harry with a cross look before scoffing, shaking his head as he places his hands on his hips, looking down to his feet. “Look, you need to get over her, H. All your focus is on Stella, but I need your focus on your job. That’s the most important thing.”

Technically if he’s focused on Stella, he’s better at his job, but Harry didn’t have the energy to start a fight over something ridiculous. Instead, Harry opted for a poisonous glare and bit his bottom lip to hold back any venom he easily could’ve spit out, walking past his trainer and making sure to bump shoulders along the way.

Mack has always been anti-relationships.

Mack advised it from the start, when Harry signed up for his gym and kick started his career in boxing. “No dating. It’s not forbidden, but trust me, Harry, you don’t need them on your mind when you’re in the ring.” Harry never had to worry about that before, because dating wasn’t really his thing to begin with.

Until her. Until Stella.

Harry decided he was done for the day, needing to rest up until his match that night. Not that he’d be resting much anyway, but he needed to get out of the gym for a bit, needed to clear his head.

Grey steel doors to the men’s locker room are no match for Harry’s unhinged anger, banging loudly against the wall behind it as they were forcefully swung open with a push from his hand. The few men in there jumped back a bit, heads immediately turning to the cause of disturbance.

Harry paid them no mind as he walked over to his locker, opening the lock and then swinging that door open too, causing it to bang into the one next to it. Despite the anger he released back in the ring, he still had enough resonating in his veins as he thought of her and as he thought of him. But immediately, as he glanced at the door of his locker, all anger dissipated for a couple fleeting moments as he stared at the filmstrip taped to the metal, the smile on her face, the smile on his face. All was better then. All was better when she was by his side.

His Stella. Stella for star.

Sitting down on the bench behind him, Harry ran his battered hands over his face and then through his hair as he tried to stop thinking of her. But then the image of her smile taunted him, enticed him, tricked him into giving her another moment of his time. The pain in his chest and the pain in his head grew stronger as his thoughts spiraled, bringing up memories he tried so hard to push to the back of his head.

Even when he was in the ring, thinking of his match later on, Harry couldn’t stop from thinking about her. He couldn’t stop his heart from sinking into his stomach at the thought of her face not being in the crowd cheering him on. He couldn’t bear it, knowing his Lucky Star wasn’t going to be there for him.

That’s when all shades of red began swarming his sight, because she wouldn’t be front row, but instead with that fucking character she calls a duet partner. Then Ryan’s face morphed into his. Harry couldn’t stop himself.

Shit, how he wished he could get his hands on that jackass.

Harry nearly broke the wood holding him up from how tight his grip was on it, but, then one glance at her and his strength fell apart.

And so did Harry’s mind.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at her picture on his locker door, but when he finally gained back his grip on reality, he grabbed his gym bag and closed the metal, hurrying out of the stuffy room to get home. He ignored Mack’s lingering gaze, keeping his own eyes straight ahead as he stormed out of the building.

Just when Harry thought he could catch a breath, a break, the warm weather outside touched his skin, nearly melting him to the ground.

Harry hated the heat. He much preferred the winter time because it always leveled his hot head, and the sweltering air mixed with his boiling rage never mixed well. Now, Harry was in an even sourer mood. Though, it slightly picked up when he realized the time on his phone.

Crossing the street, Harry began his walk in the opposite direction of home, quickening his pace so as to not miss her. He absolutely dreaded not taking his car to the gym that day. He dreaded it not only for the sweat dripping down his body, but because he had to pass a certain establishment on the shortest route to the studio.

Lucky’s Bar.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Harry had a bit of a habit of stopping time whenever he walked into a room. Or at least it felt like he did because despite the loud, rowdy music blaring through the tight bar, and everyone being focused on themselves and who they were with, all heads immediately turned to him when he stepped through the entrance of Lucky’s.

“That never gets old,” Niall nudged Harry in the side, chuckling as people began to whisper to one another, sly-but-not-so-sly fingers pointing in their direction.

It wasn’t always this way. They really only started looking at him after news spread rapidly around campus about his new ... job. Otherwise, no one ever paid enough attention to notice he was in the same room. At first it was strange knowing people were watching his every move, but after a while, he stopped caring.

One thing he learned over the past few months, is that not caring goes a long way.

Harry sat on the bar stool next to Niall, a bored look on his face as the bartender looked a bit starstruck because of who was sitting in front of her. “Two beers please. Bottled,” Niall requested, turning his attention back to his friend. “So, when’s your next match?” he wondered, mindlessly checking his phone as he waited for his girlfriend to text him of her arrival.

Harry thought about it for a second, not even remembering what day of the week it was. “Next Friday, I think. I don’t know, I’ll text you,” Harry shrugged, graciously taking the drink the bartender sat next to him, nodding his head in appreciation before taking his first swig.

They sat idly for some time, not wanting to join the masses standing on the dance floor. They could practically feel the humidity and sweat from the bar. Many girls tried coming over and flirting their ways into getting free drinks, but neither of the boys even blinked in their direction as they laughed over mindless nonsense and awaited Niall’s girlfriend’s arrival.

And Niall’s girlfriend’s friend’s arrival.

A friend that was apparently a very good, a great match for Harry. Usually, Harry denied any setups Niall tried to throw his way, but this time the bloke wouldn’t take no for an answer. Apparently, Niall had a big feeling this one was going to be someone incredibly special.

Then that familiar text tone sounded, alerting them the girls had arrived, but they didn’t need the text to know that. Because - at least to Harry and Niall - time had stopped once again, but not because of Harry, but because of Libby and her friend.

Not that anyone else cared, but the two girls lit up the entire place. Their energy radiated a glow that was unmatched to anyone else in the room, leaving Niall and Harry in awe. Of course, they turned the heads of jerk offs that whistled when they walked by, but their eyes were set on the boys waiting for them.

“Hi, baby,” Libby greeted, quickly kissing Niall on the lips before giving Harry a soft smile and kissing him on the cheek.

The other girl greeted Niall just as happily - minus the kiss on the lips, opting for a hug instead. Her curly hair sat behind her in a low ponytail, a few front strands hanging loosely over her face.

Then, her eyes met Harry’s.

Ever since she walked into Lucky’s, Harry had a hard time keeping his eyes off of her, and now that she was up close and personal, he took the time to really admire her features, her figure, her long legs that seemed to go on for miles.

Before she could introduce herself, Niall clapped Harry on the shoulder, waving his other hand between the two, “Harry, meet Stella.”

Much to his surprise, Stella leaned in for a hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a warm greeting that he never usually received when meeting a girl. Usually, Harry was met with a bat of fake eyelashes and fingers tracing his biceps.

She stepped back after a few moments, a kind smile stretched over her lips. “You must be the boxer.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Harry stands in front of the bar for a moment, thinking back to all the times he sat on the wooden stools with his girl and their friends and drank to celebrate the winning of another match. Of course, yeah, he’s been back since then, and he’s been back with his friends since then, but it’s not the same without his hand intertwined with hers and the feeling that he had when walking in with her tucked under his arm. Harry used to soak in the stares and the jealous whispers of other men and women when they walked in together, to know that he was the luckiest man alive, in those moments. His Stella, his Lucky Star, at his side, and yet he was the lucky one.

Harry knew Stella liked the attention a little bit, too, as much as she hated to admit it. Stella liked knowing that her man was the champion, the star, the winner. Stella liked seeing Harry win. That’s why she was at every match, every single one.

That feels like a lifetime ago, and it was barely a year ago. One year ago, when Harry royally fucked himself over with her and his world flipped upside down.

.・゜゜・ Stella .・゜゜・

Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso. Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso. Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso. Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso.

That��s what Stella Smalls is going to do over and over until she can get it perfect. Until there’s not a hiccup or a side step or a misplaced toe or fingertip in sight, completing the perfect combination from her fingertips to her toes. That’s what Stella has to do, to be known as one of the best dancers in the world.

“God damnit,” she grumbles, wiping the sweat on her forehead on her hand and brushing her bangs away from her skin, heaving out a heavy breath and leaning over her knees, taking a minute to catch her breath. Her legs ache with how much she’s been practicing, and she’s happy to have the night off.

“Come on, Stella,” she says to herself, psyching herself into repeating the combination a few times more. “Come on. This isn’t child’s play. This is the biggest competition you’ll ever do.”

Her words seemingly do the trick, the ache in her thighs and feet suddenly disappearing and fading into the background of her mind, her only focus going to the specific point in this song where this combination would play out to the perfect rhythm if she does it correctly. Her favorite song is playing over the speakers, the building bridge and chorus resounding through the mirror-lined studio, waiting for her to try and try again. Her song choice is making it all the more difficult to focus, especially with knowing who is across the street, and how much this song is about him, as well.

It wasn’t their song, for the short two years they were together, that was something else, something a bit too hard to touch. Their song, “Undeniable You”, the song they danced to at two in the morning in her tiny kitchen and the song they played in the car on their way to the gym and the studio and the song they played when they were making love into the early hours of the night. That was their song and it was untouchable, their song that she truly couldn't use as her competition piece for the World Title.

Stella hadn’t originally wanted to do the song that she’s currently dancing to. That wasn’t her intention, especially not fresh after their parting ways and it was raw, so raw. However, when her instructor heard the song and was approving the World Title submission under her studio’s name, she suggested that she channel her emotions that she was feeling towards the song into choreography. Stella was competing for a world title under her studio’s name. Could she really say no?

Nearly a year later, with the competition only three months away, River Daniels and Stella Smalls are practicing their duet for the world title to a song that she once associated with a man she was in love with, is in love with.

“Love,” Angie calls through the studio, walking into the quaint room with light bamboo flooring and three long barres hooked onto the walls amongst the mirrors, staring at the young girl with concern etched into her features, “maybe you should take a break. You’ve been here since eight, this morning.”

“What time is it, now? Have somewhere to be around three.” Stella wonders curiously, oblivious to how long she’s been at the studio and been working. Muscles ache inside her body, her feet crying out for a breather, and yet she keeps pushing, keeps forcing herself to repeat the combination until she finds it perfectly aligned with the rhythm of the song.

“It’s nearly two, Stella,” Angie says assuredly, sounding nearly disappointed in the way Stella has been pushing herself since she found out who her competition was for the title, and the stakes that are at large, waiting for her.

Should they win, Stella and River will go on a world tour with nearly a dozen other dancers, doing master classes and teaching young dancers the way to the title, and the money that would be split between the two of them would allow for her to finally open her own studio in town.

There’s this empty building that she has been eyeing for nearly five years, dreaming that one day it would be the studio of her dreams. There is space for three different rooms, three studios within one, and there are a multitude of opportunities waiting for her in this space if she just had the money. “The Lucky Star Academy”, she would name it, after the one that always told her that she would be the best studio owner in town. He wasn’t that clever for giving her the name.

Stella’s name does mean “star”, after all.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Harry’s knuckles were all bloodied and cut, the skin tearing and ripping at the base of his hand after rubbing against his gloves after he stupidly forgot to wrap his hands before the match. Typically, Stella reminds him, but today, she was in her head, worrying about the bank’s call and the meeting she had with the loan advisor and the conversation she had with her mother regarding how much she would offer as a loan until her business started and took off like everyone knew - or had a feeling - it would, and Harry was worried about comforting his girlfriend, to the point where they had to call him out of the locker room to make sure he was ready for the match. Stella was worried that he would lose the match because of how much worrying he was doing for her, but of course, Harry being Harry, won within the first ten minutes in the ring.

“Stell, the bank is going to approve you,” Harry said too surely for Stella’s liking when they were back in the locker room, cleaning his knuckles. “If not, like I said, I could give you the money. It’s not a big deal.” Stella glares at Harry for that secondary comment. “Okay, it’s a big deal, but I can loan you the money, Lovey. I’m not hoarding all this to myself. Makes sense to share it with the ones I love, does it not?”

“It does, but I don’t want to start my business by owing you money, Harry,” Stella says frustratedly, wiping the blood from his hands and kissing the skin of his knuckles sweetly. Stella was always the most gentle soul with Harry, even when he didn’t necessarily deserve it, and he cherished the way she loves him, the way she cares. “My studio can’t start that way. It’s just, I can’t.”

“Name it after what I call you, at least. Let me contribute the name, Stella Bella.” Harry grins so widely Stella can feel her heart giving out and falling into his hands, like it always does. “My Lucky Star. Maybe you’ll be somebody else’s, too. Mine first, always, though.”

“First and foremost,” she says, shaking her head at the nickname, one of many of what her boyfriend has called her over the years, and sighs deeply, laying the flannel on the sink beside her and letting his hands fall to her waist, holding her between his legs and kissing her shoulder, “you’ll always have me as your lucky star, the one and only.” Harry’s dimpled grin makes her stomach flutter with butterflies. “Secondly, ‘The Lucky Star Academy’, I like the sound of that.” Harry smiles wider, this time, leaning upwards and kissing her jaw. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Very nice ring to it,” Harry agrees, brushing her hair behind her ear and holding her chin between his fingertips, kissing her sweetly, deeply, smirking when she pushes his shoulder lightly and takes a step away. “Come on, lovey. One more kiss before you leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she says matter-of-factly, shaking her head and nodding towards where the door is swinging open with men walking in and out. “I’m leaving the room for you to get changed, you stink.”

“Come shower with me,” he whispers, standing on his feet and bringing her into his chest, the clamminess of his skin sticking to her fingertips as she lays her hands against his abdomen. “Not like any of these blokes actually shower here, anyways.”

“Girl in a locker room disappears into the showers and Harry Styles is nowhere to be seen,” Stella scoffs, shaking her head adamantly and brushing his hair away from his forehead, the floppy tendrils of his hair falling to his sweaty skin. “Very likely that everyone will know what’s happening.”

“Stella Smalls,” Harry says warningly, clicking his tongue and grabbing her face between his hands, “don’t ever call yourself just a girl, ever again. Hear me? Much more than a girl to me.”

“All right, all right,” she concedes, pecking his lips quickly and walking towards the locker, grabbing all his belongings and shoving the clothes that need to be washed in the tote bag he brings to every match. “Go shower, I’m tired and want to go home.”

“I’ll shower faster if my Lucky Star comes with me,” Harry teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and walking towards the showers in the corner of the locker room. “Come on, Stell. One time.” Stella sighs, looking between the phone, where she is impatiently waiting for a phone call, her belongings, and her sweaty boyfriend standing all too enticingly at the edge of the tile flooring. Stella begrudgingly sets their things in the locker, oblivious to the buzzing that’s vibrating from her phone, and hurries to Harry across the locker room floor, smirking as he says, “That’s my girl. My Stella.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Knocking on the studio door pulls Stella out of her trance, again, the song playing over and over again in her head with tears in her eyes as she forces a smile to the familiar man in the window. River is standing at the glass window, watching his partner perfect the leap combination for their routine without saying a word. Her knees are bruised and tainted a purplish-blue color that looks like it hurts like hell, and River silently reminds himself to schedule a day to practice even more to be on her level of dedication. River smiles at Stella softly, opening his arms and bringing her in close, hugging her tightly and humming contently as her arms tighten around his midsection and return the embrace.

“Looks great, Stella,” River smiles excitedly, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead and taking a step away, looking at her face and taking in the distracted glances she’s making towards the window to the outside. “Harry’s coming, isn’t he? Walks you home from the gym and all that.”

“Always on Saturdays,” Stella says shyly, almost slightly embarrassed by how much she looks forward to the weekly walk with her best friend, which happens to also be her ex-boyfriend, the person she’s choreographing this routine about. “It’s our only time to really talk, you know? Alone, at least. He’s so busy during the week, I’m busy teaching. It’s not going to distract me, River, I promise.”

“You say that, Stella,” he says concernedly, shaking his head and clicking his tongue, shrugging his shoulders slightly at the thought of the two getting back together when he’s started to develop feelings for her beyond their partnership and friendship. “There’s already chemistry there, though. That’s hard to deny when you see the way he looks at you, the way he looks at me when I’m with you. Like he wants me removed from the planet or something.”

Stella knows that Harry wants River removed from her life, completely. He doesn’t need to say anything for that to be abundantly clear. That doesn’t mean she’ll say that, though. “Oh, c’mon, Riv, it’s not that bad. He’s not that cruel.”

“If Harry knew that I liked you in any capacity, which is not me saying that I do,” River says with his hands held in the air in surrender, “I would be pummeled into bits. You know it as well as I do, Stella.” River says this surely, quirking his eyebrows at his friend and cocking his head to the side knowingly, shrugging his shoulders when she crosses her arms in front of her chest defensively and sighs. “Not your fault he’s protective of you, Stella. It’s not your fault he’s in love with you.”

“Harry isn’t in love with me. Not anymore, at least.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” River shrugs his shoulders, “Hell, what do I know, though?” He takes Stella’s hand and twirls her beneath his arm, smiling brightly when she laughs and falls into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Practice tomorrow?”

“Of course, yeah,” she says with a bright smile, leaning onto her toes and kissing his cheek, her eyes rolling slightly when she sees her ex-boyfriend nearly foaming at the mouth outside the studio at the sight. Harry tries to hide it, Stella knows this, and that’s why she never says anything when she sees his facial expressions change or the way his hands clenched into fists when he sees River with his hand on Stella’s back as they leave the studio. “Come to the fight, tonight. It’ll be fun to have everyone there. This is his last match before the International Rounds.” River nods silently and opens the door for Stella to walk through, Harry immediately grabs her hand and pulls her into a warm hug. “Hi, Harry.”

.・゜゜・Harry .・゜゜・

With old memories rehashing in his mind - which brought him the most happiness he’s felt in a while - Harry for fucking sure wasn’t expecting to see that slime-ball hugging his girl, replacing those memories with the anger he thought he suppressed, for now, at least.

Harry knew his face contorted into a deep scowl, burning red as he saw the interaction happening before him, and he couldn’t help his knuckles turning white from his fists clenching insanely tight. He knew how furious he looked. Hell, he knew how crazy he looked, but that didn’t stop him from tugging her away from her partner the moment they walked outside.

Harry wraps his arms around Stella’s shoulders, pulling her close to him, but keeping his eyes on River. “Hi, Harry,” she murmured into his chest, before she pulled herself away and looked up at him. For the first time in those fifteen seconds, he diverted his attention away from him and looked at his girl, a smirk lining his features.

“Hello, lovey.” And, spitefully - arguably, without a single care - he leans down and places his own kiss to her opposite cheek. As soon as Harry stood back up to his full height, he could see in Stella’s eyes that she was pleading for him to not cause a scene. He decided to respect her wishes, this time, but that didn’t stop the threatening glare he sent River’s way. “C’mon, let’s get you home. Think I can take a nap there?”

Stella looked over her shoulder at her dance partner, giving him an apologetic look. She knew he wasn’t nearly as scared of Harry, as Harry would like to think, but that didn’t stop her from being worried. River waved her off unapologetically, saying, “I’ll see you, tonight.”

Harry’s head quickly snapped to look at Stella, eyes widening and mouth falling agape from his words. He, too, looked over his shoulder, then, just to see the man getting in his car and then speeding off down the road. Harry was confused. He was baffled. And of course, he was angry.

What does that mean?

As far as Harry knows, they see each other for practice during the week, for tech rehearsals, and for the performances, but never for anything else. Stella and River were only dance partners, not friends. That’s right, isn’t it?

That’s when his greatest fear started coming to life. The realization hit. Harry could lose Stella, for good.

Harry stopped in his tracks, no matter how badly he wanted to get out from under the blazing sun. Stella stopped, too, confused as to why he was just standing there. “What’s wrong?”

The real question was: What isn’t wrong?

“What did he mean by that?” Harry hissed, bringing his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down harshly on it, but surprisingly, not drawing any blood. Harry knows that they aren’t officially together, and no matter how much, how badly that eats him alive, he knows that she has free reign to be with whoever she wants. Stella’s his Lucky Star, though, and, truth be told, he doesn’t think he can ever be without her in some capacity, for as long as he’s still breathing, as long as he’s on this planet. And, truthfully, it pains him to think that she would want to be with anyone that isn’t him.

Sometimes, Harry wonders if she feels the same way.

“By what?” she asked by raising her eyebrows, confused as to what he was talking about. Then, seeing Harry biting on his lip with an excruciating grip, seeing the anger bubble back inside of him, Stella put two and two together, and figured out that he was talking about what her partner had said. “Oh, seeing me tonight? Oh my God, Harry.” Stella started laughing at this, beginning her walk, again, to her apartment.

Harry was stunned for a quick moment before he followed after her, falling into step with her. He kept his eyes locked on her, watching her shake her head and and keep her eyes trained on her squeaky clean, white shoes. “What?”

“He’s coming to the fight.”

Harry was tempted to stop walking, again, but knew she wouldn’t stop this time, and would probably leave him behind. “No, he isn’t,” Harry responded, completely dumbfounded to the idea of Stella bringing up his fight, and then going the extra mile to invite her dance partner to it. He didn’t understand why she would even think of doing that, because she knows he doesn’t like him. It’s almost as if she enjoys making Harry angry - which could be the only possible explanation for why she invited him.

Stella looked up at him, tilting her head to the side, “Excuse me?”

“He’s not coming to my fight,” Harry scoffed, pressing the button on the crosswalk, waiting for the signal to keep walking.

“Are you being serious right now?” she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest, turning to face him completely as they stood on the corner. Deep down, Stella knew Harry was being serious, but didn’t quite want to believe it. Harry’s always had this possessive hold on her, ever since they started dating. Honestly, when they were together, it was cute, it was funny, even, it stemmed from the love he had for her. Now, though, it’s infuriating, it’s toxic, and it’s painful.

It’s also kind of sad.

After Stella, Harry closed himself off to the world again. He sticks to his same few friends. He doesn’t date. He continues to revolve his world around Stella. Constantly. Stella’s trying to grow, and move on, but he makes it impossible for her, because, truthfully, Harry has no one else. It’s sad, but it’s also insanely frustrating. “First of all, it’s a public event, so technically, River’s more than welcome to be there. Secondly, I’m not your girlfriend, H. I haven’t been your girlfriend for over a year. And Harry, you need to get that through your head, because I’m tired of telling you.”

Clicking of the cross-walk sign began, signaling it was time to start walking, again, which Stella happily did as Harry once again found himself stuck in place. This wasn’t how he imagined his day to go, and he certainly didn’t want to keep talking on the topic, but he couldn’t stop himself. It’s like a vicious cycle of trying to prove that she still wants him in some capacity, that she would choose him over someone else, even though she’s proven time and time again that she doesn’t, that she wouldn’t. Stella is over Harry, and Harry refuses to accept that.

Harry allowed a few moments of silence between them, a comfortable silence as they walked on towards her apartment, letting her think she had gotten the better end of the argument. Then, Harry continued. “Has he got a ticket?”

Stella sighed, “What?”

“For the fight. Did he buy a ticket? Or are you gonna use my name to get him in?” Harry’s association is the way she and any of his friends ever get in without paying. Tickets always sell insanely fast, near instantaneously, so Harry doubts River actually has one to get in. He knows Stella is going to get him in, and Harry’s lucky to have the upper-hand in the situation, because he can easily make it where there’s a specific guest-list - one that doesn’t have him on it. “I’ll tell the guard to blacklist him, Stell. He’s not coming.”

Stella rolled her lips into her mouth, fighting off the urge to spit venom that could put a wrench into whatever this relationship of theirs was. She didn’t want to continue moving backwards, but Harry made it really, very difficult to push forward. Stella shrugged, keeping her eyes ahead of her, “Fine, then neither am I.”

Stella only ever went to his fights because Harry asked her to, not because she had any actual desire to be there. Having to watch her once-boyfriend get punched in the face was never a sight she could fully stomach, and if his unwillingness to see her friend was this strong, then it only gave her motive not to go.

Harry opened the door to her apartment building once she put the code in, allowing her to enter first. Quite frankly, he doesn’t care if she doesn’t want him to follow, because he does anyway. The idea of Stella not being there for his fight deepens the pit in the bottom of his stomach, and thickens his fear of losing her.

It’s like this: when Stella is there, Harry knows he’s gonna win, when Stella’s not there, that familiar feeling isn’t in Harry’s gut, and all he feels is uncertainty. Harry can feel the victory gliding through his veins when he steps into the ring, seeing her front row, clapping and whistling and rooting for him. Calling her his Lucky Star started off as an inside joke, simply because of the meaning of her name and where they first met. After she started coming to his fights, though, Lucky Star became quite literal, and he can’t go without her.

“Of course you are. I need you there.”

And when they finally got to her front door, Stella inserted her key and unlocked it, but didn’t enter right away, confusing Harry. Stella stood there, facing him, his hand on the door nearly blockading her against the small wooden door, a small smile on her lips. “Okay. Then, River comes. He goes, I go.”

Harry and Stella held a staring contest for what felt like minutes, neither of them willing to back down - both, with the eye contact and the argument that hangs over them like a dark, miserable cloud. Finally, Harry sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his head so his chin hit against his chest. He was in no position to keep fighting her, especially if continuing meant jeopardizing her attendance, tonight, in particular.

His favorite smile, a full smile broke out onto Stella’s face, and she couldn’t help reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. Twisting the golden doorknob, she allowed them both into her home. “Did you still wanna take that nap?”

Harry rolled his eyes, stepping inside and shrugging off his tee shirt before the door could even fully shut. “I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Fifteen minutes until showtime. Fifteen minutes and Stella still wasn’t there.

Harry left her with plenty of time to get ready and to get her friend to come with her. He left her apartment nearly thirty minutes before they had to be at the gym, giving her enough time to get dressed - she was never one for makeup, if she wasn’t on stage - and make her way to the gym long before the match would start. Stella should be here, by now. She’s always early.

Harry was nervous, but not because of his fight - because there was no sign of Stella. Mack has tried to get his mind off of her, but he was basically talking to a wall as Harry kept pacing around the locker room, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“She’ll be here, H,” Libby tried reassuring him again, but like Mack, she was ignored. After Harry left Stella’s apartment around four, that was the last time he saw or heard from her. Usually, she would send him a text that she’s on her way, but he’s received nothing. The only reason Harry could think of why this is happening, is because of that prick of a dance partner. Harry always drove Stella himself, before their separation, and afterwards, she always sent a text when she was coming.

Now, the one time River decides to tag-along, there’s no word from her. If Harry didn’t hate him already, he certainly does now.

Niall offered Harry a beer, which he greatly accepted, gulping it down in seconds before crushing the metal of the can in his palm. Then, the locker room door swung open, and a frenzied Stella walked in with a sheepish look on her face.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, there was a crowd outside that was impossible to get through,” Stella rushed out, coming straight over to Harry and engulfing him in a hug, knowing he must’ve been worried, ignoring the concerned looks on their friends’ and her friend’s faces. Stella was cutting it close to when Harry had to get out there, and she just blamed it entirely on the traffic and drunk crowd of old men, and she knew that wasn’t going to stick with Harry.

“Great! Stella’s here, now. Can you fucking sit down?” Mack hissed, rubbing his temples as he could feel his headache fading away. Stella shyly pulled away from Harry, ignoring Mack’s hardened stare, and made her way over to her friends, greeting them in her usual manner before snagging her own beer from the cooler; and when she pulled out another, that’s when Harry realized the leech that was in the room, too.

Taking a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, Harry did all he could to ignore River’s existence. He had to remain civil for Stella’s sake. That was the condition of her being there, after all.

“Stell, you didn’t text me,” Harry spoke up, gaining back her attention.

Stella looked at him with a furrow in her brow before patting her jean pockets and then reaching into her small purse hanging off her arm. “Shit, I forgot my phone back at my place. I’m sorry,” she apologized, only then realizing that she completely forgot her phone and, therefore, forgot to text Harry and confirm her appearance, like she usually did. Stella stepped closer to Harry, lowering her voice so that only he could hear. “I told you I was gonna be here, though.”

Harry looked down at his shoes, biting his lip, biting back his words. Harry wanted to tell Stella he was nervous that she wasn’t gonna show, wanted to tell her that he was worried, wanted to tell her so much. Instead, Harry reached over to the bench where his duffle bag was, pulling out his gloves and offering them to her. “Can you put my gloves on for me?”

It was a bit of a tradition for Stella to put Harry’s gloves on his hands. As if her being there wasn’t enough luck, this action was also a tiny good luck token that Harry always needed before he went out. Stella hesitated for a brief second, not knowing if this was actually a good thing. There was essentially no harm in it, but knowing his reasoning - that it was for good luck, she is his good luck - kind of felt like a punch to her gut. Of course, though, she reached for them anyway, slipping one and then the other on his fists before tightening the straps and knocking the fists together.

“Good luck, H,” she murmured, giving his right and left fist a little kiss, before dropping his hands all together.

The little kiss sent a shock through Harry’s spine, because that was something she never did before. A wide smirk formed on his lips, his nerves completely vanishing as confidence swarmed his veins. He stood back up to his full height, saying, “Don’t need it now that you’re here,” just loud enough for her friend to hear on the other side of the room.

“Alright, let’s go!” Mack shouts from the locker room door, holding out Harry’s robe and guard for his mouth.

Harry’s black robe was slipped over his frame as they all walked out of the locker room and into the hall. The bass-driven music was pounding throughout the venue, eliciting a roar from the crowd, because the fun was about to begin. The announcer could be heard, hyping up the audience as he waited for the cue that opponents arrived to their positions.

Niall, Libby, Stella, and River separated from Harry and Mack, making their way towards their reserved seats in the front row. Harry was barely paying attention to whatever Mack was telling him, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet and cracking his neck as they waited.

Then his name was called. And everything became a blur.

The crowd erupted, he walked to the ring, Mack put his mouth guard in for him, and then the familiar bell of the match sounded. His opponent was no bigger than he was, which was good for him because it called for an easy win. The guy managed to get a few good moves in, delivering a hard right hook straight to Harry’s jaw. All he could see was black for a couple of seconds, but once he regained his composure, the first thing he saw was River’s arm wrapped around Stella’s shoulder.

She was motionless as she watched Harry, hands clasped together and under her chin as she hoped for him to win. It was like she didn’t even notice his arm was on her, and Harry can’t decide if that makes it worse.

The anger from earlier today at the gym, and from picking Stella up, and from Stella being late boiled back inside of him. The look on his face was a deadly one as he spat on the ring floor, raising his fists back in the air, ready to strike. His opponent looked terrified for a quick second, but he too raised his fists, nowhere near ready to give up.

Harry won.

Scary part is, he doesn’t even remember it.

One moment he’s standing there, the next his arm is being raised in victory as the referee declares him winner. His breathing is heavy, his heart is beating rapidly, and his body is drenched in sweat. He feels hot and disgusting, so he walks over to Mack in the corner, who’s waiting with a towel for Harry to spit his mouthguard on to.

He receives compliments left and right as he makes his way backstage, but he practically ignores them all as he searches for the only one that matters. Her face pops up within seconds out of the crowd, and then she’s making her way towards Harry, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, not caring about the sweat and the stickiness of his skin. “Knew you’d win.”

“I always do when you’re here,” he hums, pecking her cheek and shrugging his shoulders, leaving one arm slung around her, raising his eyebrows in a cocky manner, basically saying I never lose. Stella hums in response, shaking her head at the cockiness, before needing to find the nearest bathroom, stating she’ll be back in a few minutes.

Niall and Libby didn’t stay for long after the fight, so all that was left was Harry and River. Alone. Alone, while Stella was in the bathroom. Harry tried really hard to ignore him, but being alone fueled the fire in his mind, and couldn’t help himself. “What do y’think you’re doing?”

River was surprised at this, because as far as he knew, he wasn’t doing anything. “Excuse me?”

Harry scoffed, unraveling the tape on his hands, clenching his jaw as he looked up. “Never seen you two so … close, before.”

River shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders. If he was supposed to feel intimidated by Harry, he wasn’t. Who Stella decided to be around was her own decision, and it wasn’t any of Harry’s business what their personal relationship was. Not that it was anything more than friends, Harry didn’t need to know that. “Well, someone has to be there for her. Y’know, after all the pain you caused.”

After all the pain you caused. Harry swallowed at the thought. Their breakup weighs heavy on him, and not a day goes by where he doesn’t think about the pain he caused, the pain that ensued afterwards. He knows he hurt her badly, and he’s not so sure anything could ever make up for what he did, but knowing that others know he hurt her made him feel uneasy. The worst part of it all? Knowing that he wasn’t the one she cried to, confided in, needed support from.

River was, any of her friends were, but not Harry.

He gripped the bench he was on, mulling over the idea of Stella seeking River out to talk about her relationship problems, and praying Stella would come back quickly before he does something he regrets. Before he could say anything back, River made the decision to keep egging him on, leaning his back against the wall by the door. “Harry, you gotta let her go, mate. I think we both know this will always end badly between the both of you. ”

Harry stood up from his seat, stalking across the room, ending up right in front of River, barely a foot of space between them. Harry doesn’t like the way he says his name, venom and distaste found in every syllable, almost as though she could never see it. “You don’t know shit about Stella and I.”

“Don’t I? I know a lot more than you think, Harry Styles. If you love Stella, you’d stay away from her,” he spat back, narrowing his eyes into slits, taking his hands out of the pockets of his jeans.

Harry wishes it was that easy. If Harry could physically stay away, he would. She doesn’t deserve the trouble he brings and he most certainly doesn’t deserve her. Love isn’t that easy, though. It can’t be that easy. Stella’s his girl. There’s no one else for him. He can’t let her go.

“You’re bad for her. Can’t you see that?”

And just like that, Harry’s fist came in contact with River’s cheek. The dancer’s body was thrown off his arrogant balance, nearly toppling over onto the floor from the brute impact. Harry gripped the back of his shirt, throwing his back against the wall he was just perched on, taking hold of his jaw so he had nowhere else to look but at him. Harry tilted his head to the side a bit, leaning in just a bit closer so his hushed words could be heard, just between them two.

“You’re gonna go. Stella is my girl, and I won’t go down without a fight - which we both know you’ll lose. So you’re gonna leave her alone, got it?” Harry hissed, tightening his hold on River’s jaw, which any tighter, he could probably break.

River wasn’t happy, that much was evident, but he knew when to give up. Harry was a force he had no time or effort to reckon with, so unwillingly, he nodded his head. His face was dropped, and Harry stepped back, clapping him on the shoulder with a condescending smile as he pointed towards the door to the locker room. Holding his tender face, River gave Harry one last middle finger before walking out.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, knocking his head back so he was facing the ceiling. The deep pit that had been nestled into his gut all day finally vanished, and he finally felt at peace. He could finally get the idea of Stella with anyone else out of his head and maybe, just maybe, get their relationship back on track to what it used to be. For that to happen, though, Harry needed Stella to fully trust him again, and he was still struggling with how to gain her forgiveness. Because anyone that knew Stella knew that she could hold a grudge.

He didn’t get much time to think about it though, because after a million years, Stella finally came back from the bathroom. “I swear, I just don’t think today’s my day. I went into one stall and it didn’t have toilet paper, and the next one didn’t either, and ... Hey, where’s River?” she suddenly wondered, stopping mid-ramble to look around the room, seeing it was just Harry in there.

“Said summat about not feeling good, left a couple minutes ago. I’ll drive you home,” Harry disclosed, tugging his clean clothes out of his bag so he could go take a shower quick before they left.

“Oh, that’s odd. He seemed fine before. I hope he’s better for rehearsals tomorrow,” she spoke worriedly, making a mental note to text him when she gets home. They only had three months until the competition, and they haven’t really performed the dance together yet. They’re already on a time crunch, so him being sick really didn’t help their case.

The whole time they were alone together after Harry’s shower, not a single word was exchanged between them. It wasn’t a necessarily awkward tension between them, but it wasn’t the most comfortable either. The journey across the parking lot to Harry’s car was silent, and then the car ride was only filled with the quiet lull of the music on the radio.

When they arrived outside her building, Harry put the car in park, but Stella didn’t jump to get out just yet. She played with the ring on her finger - that actually used to be Harry’s, gnawing at her bottom lip gently. She was pulled out of her thoughts when Harry placed his hand on her thigh and smiled slightly, and Stella knows exactly what Harry’s going to say. It’s the same every week, every match.

“Thank you for coming.”

Stella glanced up at him, pulling a small smile across her lips, slowly nodding her head. For some reason, she could feel tears and anguish building up inside of her, causing her to look away quickly as she reached for her purse on the floor between her feet. She placed her hand on the door handle, ready to pull on it before turning back around to face him for one last time in the night. “Congratulations, H. I’ll see you soon.”

Then she was gone, and that unmistakable pit in Harry’s stomach resurfaced.

.・゜゜・ Stella .・゜゜・

Stella can see her anger. That’s all she can see at this moment. Bright red. Burning anger. Fueling rage. Usually, Stella knows how to channel her anger, to calm herself and bring herself back to Earth and level herself out without making a scene. However, right now, Stella absolutely cannot. All of her rage is targeted at one person, one person that she swore she’d never take the time to be this angry at ever again.

Harry.

Stella hasn’t been this angry since she and Harry broke up over a year ago, since the moment she stepped on the stage and realized that the one person that she wanted to be there wasn’t there at all. Stella hasn’t been this angry since Harry blamed it on oversleeping and forgetting, since he lied to her face and tried to win her back with broken promises and empty words. Stella hasn’t been this angry ever in her life, and it’s beginning to make her skin hot and her face sweat with the rush of it all.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

“What do you mean you’re through?” Harry asks angrily as he begins pacing around the bedroom that he and Stella practically share at his apartment. Stella’s old place was nearly empty by the time they were dating for six months and she was about to sign the final paperwork to end her lease and move in permanently with him. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Stella says harshly, shaking her head and sucking back tears that are threatening to fall. Stella can’t cry. Not right now. Harry can’t see how broken she is over this, over everything.

“Is this because I missed the performance? Is that what all this is about?”

Stella sets her clothes in the suitcase and looks at Harry with tears in her eyes, biting back a laugh and sucking in a deep breath, one singular tear falling down her cheek as she stares at him. Harry looks broken, as if someone’s dug a knife into his chest and twisted at the seams. In a way, Stella is glad he feels this way, this hurt, this pained, because maybe, just maybe, Harry would understand how she felt to win and be completely alone, without the one person that she wanted there.

Stella’s mind goes back to the memory of the competition, of how she felt.

Stella stepped onto the stage with nothing but joy and pride in her eyes. Stella’s first national title was about to be won as long as she scores high enough, and that would mean she would be one step closer to earning the money to open her own studio. Her mother, Luna, is in the audience, Harry’s mother and sister, all of their friends are there ready to cheer her on. Harry should be there, his flight landed nearly an hour ago, and he said he was going to come right there to watch her. Harry promised that much.

Stella performed her very best, danced the best she’s ever done, earned a standing ovation from the audience and the judges and a perfect score on her sheets. Angie hugged her tightly as she came off the stage, River shortly behind, her eyes looking expectantly out in the crowd to see her family and friends and searching rather impatiently for the one person that she wanted there the most. Harry wasn’t there. Harry wasn’t there at all.

“Of course, that’s what this is about, Harry! Are you dense?” Stella shouts without meaning to, frustration lacing her voice and making it nearly impossible to keep level headed. “You missed the most important competition of my career. For what? Because you overslept? Because you didn’t want to fly?”

“Stella.”

“Wait, were you sleeping with that one girl? What’s her name? Molly? The one that’s been following you around to all your matches, lately?” Stella seemingly has made up her mind before Harry’s even opened his mouth to respond. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“No, Stella. I have never and would never cheat on you,” Harry says sternly, shaking his head and taking a cautious step forward, his chin dropping to his chest when Stella takes a step away from him. “Don’t believe me, that’s fair, but I swear to you, I never cheated. I overslept. I got lazy and missed my flight. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“God, Harry, grow up! You’re such a fucking hypocrite!”

“I’m not a hypocrite,” Harry grits through his teeth, shaking his head and cracking his knuckles, clenching and unclenching his fists to try and gain control of his anger. He always had a bit of a temper.

“How would you feel if I missed one of your matches? One of your biggest matches, because I was too tired from dance and from work and didn’t want to get on a flight.”

“I would understand, Stella,” Harry lies, trying desperately to soften his eyes and make her believe him. He wasn’t trying to manipulate her into staying, per se, but he certainly wouldn’t admit that he would be furious at her, that he wouldn’t take an apology and would likely need a few days to cool off from how angry he would be. “Maybe I wouldn’t understand, I would be angry. I wouldn’t break up with you, though.”

“No, Harry, you’d just give me the silent treatment until I begged you to come home and apologized for days,” Stella says confidently, anger lacing every word that she’s spitting out and making him all the more able to see that he won’t be winning this argument any time soon. “I know you, Harry Styles. I know you better than anyone, and I know how angry you’d be at me. Harry, you wouldn’t speak to me for days if I missed a match. And yet, you can miss my biggest competition, which I won, by the way, and try to get away with it scott free, without any repercussions. It doesn’t work like that, Harry. Life doesn’t work that way. Just because you’re good looking and a good boxer doesn’t mean you can just get away with anything!”

“I’m not trying to get away with it, Stella. I said I’m sorry!” Harry booms, his voice travelling around the bedroom and echoing in her ears, the velocity of his voice against the thin walls making sure their neighbors must’ve heard everything. Stella, frankly, doesn’t care at this moment. All Stella cares about is getting the hell away from Harry Styles. “Stella, please don’t go. I need you. You’re my lucky charm. I’ll fuck up if you’re not there.”

“That’s it? That’s why you want me to stay - because I’m good luck?” Stella asks astonishedly, shaking her head and zipping her suitcase even faster than she originally planned on it. Stella thought about making things dramatic, dragging it out slowly and surely, but of course Harry had to go and say something absolutely ridiculous to make her even more angry. Harry doesn’t know how to watch his mouth. “Fuck you, Harry.”

“Stella, I love you,” Harry says as a final plea, taking her wrist in his strong grip and turning her around, forcing her to look into his eyes. Stella’s expression is lifeless and cold, her honey eyes darkened and worn with anger. Harry doesn’t recognize this Stella, he doesn’t recognize her at all. This isn’t his Lucky Charm, his Stella Bella, his Stella. This isn’t his girl. This woman hates him. Hates him a lot. “Stella, I’m so fucking sorry. I love you. I want you because I love you. I don’t care about the stupid, bloody fights.” Stella looks at Harry knowingly. “Okay, I care a little bit. It’s how I pay for my life. It’s my job, Stella. I was tired, and I thought it wouldn’t matter if I missed one competition. I wasn’t thinking. That was wrong of me. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Harry, you need to grow up. I would do anything for you, quite literally anything, and you couldn’t even get on a plane to see me perform on the biggest stage I’ve ever performed on, for a national title, for me. I lied to your family for you. I lied to my family for you. I lied to our friends. I told everyone your flight got delayed and you were watching the livestream. I won’t do that again. I won’t lie to the people I care about for you, ever again. I’m not going to put myself in that situation,” Stella says sternly, shaking her head and yanking her wrist away from Harry’s grasp. “Maybe one day we’ll make it work, but you need to grow up. Harry, you’re jealous and immature and you think the world revolves around you. News flash, it fucking doesn’t.”

“My world doesn’t revolve around me, Stella,” Harry shouts as Stella begins walking out the door. “It revolves around you! Everything I do is for you, Stella.”

Stella looks at Harry longingly, as if she wishes that the words were enough to make her stay. “If your world revolved around me, Harry, then you would’ve been there, and I wouldn’t be walking out the door, right now.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Knocking on Stella’s door came early, a bright seven in the morning with the sun freshly risen, a few hours before she was meant to meet River at the studio. They were meant to rehearse for a few hours at the studio, before Stella would go to the gym and meet Harry for his training for the match that was in a few week’s time. That Stella knew. That was all in Stella’s mind as she wrapped a robe around her figure and hurried to the front door where the knocking was incessant and repetitive.

This, though. This, Stella had no idea about.

Stella opened the door, dazed and confused by River’s appearance, hurrying him inside and making a cup of coffee for them both. River had a bruise the size of a fist on his cheek, and a scrape along his forehead that makes it seem like he was smacked into the ground.

Immediately, Stella knew. Stella Smalls instantly knew who the culprit was and why it was happening. It made her furious. Harry always had a bit of a temper, a bit of a jealousy issue when they were together, but it was never anything that she couldn’t handle by herself. This, though, was too much.

“Look Stella, I love you. I love you as my friend,” River says softly, taking a sip of the coffee she’s set in front of him apologetically and running his finger around the rim. “I love you as a dancer, I love you as a partner, I do. I don’t want you to think that I don’t.”

“River,” Stella says hesitantly, knowing exactly where he’s going with his sentence, going exactly where she doesn’t want him to go. This could ruin her life, her chances at winning the title, of opening her own studio this year. This could ruin everything. All because of Harry.

“I can’t be your partner anymore, Stella.” There, River said it. Stella knew that was going to be it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting like a bitch. “Can’t be your partner, Stella, not if you’re going to be friends with Harry and he’s going to be around all the time. Harry is, quite frankly, Harry is a mess to deal with and a temper and a lot. Know that it’s not fair to make you choose, and I don’t plan on making you choose.” River is too good for Stella. Way too good. “I think you need to do this piece as a solo act for the world title. Stella, it’s so good. It really is. You’re going to perform it wonderfully on stage.”

“Except you can’t do it with me,” she says, toying with the rings on her fingers and clenching her knuckles together into fists, fighting the urge to smack her hand against the marble counter.

“Right,” he says regretfully, dipping his head to his chest and letting the air puff out between his lips. “I’m so sorry, Stella.”

“I, um, I think I need to be alone,” Stella sighs, saying every word with regret and shame and anger, sadness lacing every syllable. “I don’t understand, not really, but I’ll try to. Honestly, though, I just want to be alone, right now.”

River simply nods quietly and stands from the barstool at her kitchen counter, walking towards the entryway of her apartment and opening the front door. “I’ll see you at the studio?”

“Mhm,” she hums without saying a word, discontentedly drawing a circle around the rim of her mug and not daring to look away from the ceramic cup in her hands.

“Bye, Stella,” River says as he walks out the front door, regret and sadness lacing his voice. Stella wants to punch him in the other eye for feeling pity for her. He should’ve been stronger, acted tougher, not let Harry get to him. Maybe Harry should’ve left him alone. “I’m sorry.”

Her head slowly nods and her eyes stay cast on the marble counter that she’s leaning on. Stella doesn’t want River to see her cry. Angry cry, that is.

All of Stella’s anger is channeled towards Harry. All of it. Every ounce. There is not one bone in her body that isn’t infuriated with Harry Styles, that wants to punch him in the face and yell until her cheeks turn blue. Harry ruined her chance at the World Title by doing this. He’s ruined her chance at opening her own studio. He’s ruined it.

Harry is at the gym, that’s easy to know. He always is. This calms Stella, knowing exactly where to go and what to do. Maybe not what to say, but that will come with her anger as she ruminates in the frustration. Stella wipes her tears from her cheeks, readies herself for the day - which includes wearing one of his training shirts and jeans and trainers - and hurries along to the gym down the street, rushing inside and bursting through the doors to see the man of the hour, pummeling away at a free-standing punching bag, sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Harry Styles,” Stella shouts, walking in and commanding the attention of everyone in the room. “Harry Edward Styles!”

“H,” Mack says, ripping an earphone from Harry’s ear and nodding towards where his ex-girlfriend is angrily walking towards them, hands balled into fists. “Got a visitor. An angry one.”

“Stell, what are you doing here so early?” Harry wonders confusedly, brushing his hair away from his forehead and sucking in a deep breath, slowly taking the gloves off his fists and tucking them under his arm. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Stella scoffs, throwing her head back in a thick and pained laugh and lifting her hands in the air with a smack to her thighs. “Am I okay? River quit today. Quit the whole fucking routine. All because someone made one too many threats about being with me.”

“Have no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry shrugs, walking away and pushing the door into the Men’s Locker Room open, waiting for the yelling to diminish, especially considering how many people were staring in the center of the gym. He reaches his locker, ignoring the calling of his name behind him and opens his locker, shoving his gloves and mouth guard into the metal container and taking a towel and wiping the sweat clinging to his forehead. His hand slams against the locker next to him, causing a banging sound to resound through the quaint space.

“Don’t walk away from me, Harry,” Stella shouts from outside the locker room door, waiting rather impatiently for him to exit, and when he doesn’t in a near thirty seconds, she’s storming inside after him, ignoring the calls and squeamish shouts from the grown men changing in the midst of the room. “Fuck, Harry, you’re such an asshole, you know that! Making my partner quit on me, three months before my competition!”

“Awfully cozy with someone that’s just your partner, Stella,” Harry says sarcastically, drawing out every syllable and taking a step away from the locker, and standing with his hands on his hips as he stares at her, taking in the beauty that she gives off so effortlessly. “Not to mention, I didn’t make him quit. I simply said that he needed to take a step back. Coming to my fights with you. Kissing you. Making a show with you. That’s not what a partner does.”

“Harry, I’m not your girl anymore! I’m not someone you get to be jealous over and fight over! Get that through your thick head!” she screams angrily, huffing a breath and ignoring the stares that she’s receiving as the remainder of the men in the locker room leave the two to argue quietly.

Harry cracks open his locker and reaches for his water, his eyes falling to the photographs that are still stuck on the inside of the metal door. “Of course, that’s what you think, Stella, but, you’ll always be my girl.”

Harry can’t shut the locker door before Stella sees the photostrip, the three photographs of the two of them from their anniversary two years ago. “Is that?” Her eyes well with tears at the thought, the photographs that she searched high and low for after their breakup to try and hide away with all of the other things that she saved in a wooden box beneath her bed, all the photographs and memories that she wanted to keep for the day they, maybe, got back together like she had thought about, at first. “Have you kept them all this time?”

“Not like you were going to want them anymore,” Harry says spitefully, slamming his locker shut and walking towards where she is, setting his hands on either side of the locker that she’s standing against and holding her between his arms. “Not like you wanted me anymore.”

“Harry, don’t,” she says sadly, slinking beneath his arms and walking towards the locker, turning his birthday in the pin and opening the combination, her hands reaching for the photostrip and running her fingers along the tattered photographs, reminiscing sweetly on the memory. “Did you know I looked everywhere for these? I wanted them.”

“Wanted them for what, Stella? To what? Throw out?” Harry is angry, clenching his hands into fists and getting ready to take the photograph out of her hands before she can take them and run away with them. That’s the last thing that he has of Stella that isn’t broken and shoved in a bin beneath his mattress. That’s the last thing he has left of when his Lucky Star was his.

“No,” Stella sniffles, wiping her eyes and sticking the photograph back on the metal wall of the locker door. “I wanted to keep it for when we got back together, you prick. I thought, I thought we’d get back together. I didn’t think we’d stay apart.”

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it, Stella,” Harry warns, stepping around the bench separating them and leaning one hand on the locker next to Stella’s head, her thumbs tracing over the photographs where she’s hiding in his neck laughing and he’s holding her tightly, the one where they’re kissing and smiling and they look happy, because they were. Harry and Stella were so happy together. Harry softens looking at the tears on her cheeks, and cautiously leans forward to wipe a stray tear from her skin. “Stella Grace, look at me.”

Cautiously, Stella lifts her head and meets Harry’s stare, his intense green eyes staring back at her longingly and - dare she say - lovingly, his thumb going under her chin and holding her face to his. “What, Harry? I’m not sure what else you could possibly want from me. Especially now, when I have no duet partner and the World Title is only three months away. You’ve royally fucked me over, Harry.”

“I am so sorry, Stella. I didn’t think River would quit.” Stella looks at Harry knowingly, threateningly, as if to say, I will leave if you don’t tell me the truth, and that whips Harry into shape. Harry can’t let her leave. This is selfish of him, of course it is. Harry loves Stella. Love can be selfish sometimes. Can’t it? “Okay, well, I hoped he would. I wasn’t thinking about you, though. That was selfish of me. I’m sorry. I love you, Stella. I act selfish and stupid when I think about you with someone else. It makes me do crazy things. Stupid things. Tell me what I have to do to make it right, Stella.”

Stella thinks for a minute, really contemplating all that Harry has said and how she feels and the emotions that are rushing through her in that moment, everything feeling a bit too much and like she needs to break away and find herself in the studio dancing over and over until she can make sense of everything. That’s what Stella does - Stella dances to make sense of everything. That’s when it hits her.

“Dance with me.”

“Huh?” Harry chokes out, shaking his head immediately and wondering how in the hell Stella came up with that as what he needed to do to win her over. “Stella.”

“Harry, you need to dance with me, or you need to leave me alone. That’s it.”

174 notes · View notes

drabbles-of-writing · 3 years

Text

Movie Night

This is part of my Beta AU

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

There was screaming in Blight Manor again.

Most neighbors didn’t hear it, beyond muffled sounds in the distance. Hard to hear anything in that Manor when the properties were so big for no discernable reason.

But sometimes the neighbors hear. And so long the screams stay laced with curses, snarling, and the occasional shattering glass instead of bloody murder, they let it be.

Edric stood by the front door, arms crossed as he stared out at the Manor’s gate like there wasn’t screeching coming from his home. He winced every time the noise raised even a notch.

He checked his watch, frowning as he began tapping his foot. After a few more moments he began to turn, reaching for the door handle.

The front door swung open before he could get to it. Emira said something back behind her, much quieter than the fit coming from inside. Amity all but stormed out right after her, the screaming dying as Emira slipped out after her and the door was quickly shut.

Emira looked tired, and Edric mirrored it, with just a bit more worry in his features. They looked to Amity next, quiet as she shoved the unlocked gate open.

“Well?” Amity spat, whirling around.

Her glare increased when their expressions turned empathetic. Emira was quick to wipe it off and continued down the driveway, pulling out her car keys. Edric hesitated for a moment as he followed his sisters, beginning to open the door as they pulled themselves into the car.

“I’ll steal your keys back.” He said after a moment, earning a slightly surprised look from Amity as she turned to him. “Not, like, today,” He added quickly. “But, er, soon.” He mumbled, ducking into his seat in the back. Amity had already taken a shotgun and nobody was in the mood to argue.

The keys weren’t really the issue, they all knew it wasn’t. Not even close. But the effort was there, and really, he couldn’t think of much better to offer.

Amity knew. She looked back at him over her seat for a moment, and while her ears were still pressed back and fangs still threatening to show at any provocation, she nodded to him. Edric loosened just a little bit, and Emira relaxed a bit herself as she started the car.

“For a price, of course.” Edric added right after. “But I’ll be nice and just ask you to give me my necklace back. And those dangly bracelets as compensation.”

“Eat shit, Ed.” Amity huffed. Emira offered her a half-empty container of hand sanitizer from the junk in her car and Amity was quick to chuck it at Edric’s head.

“Fine, fine!” Edric poorly covered his head from the offending weapon. “Just the choker then, have it your way!”

“Get it back yourself, all you’re getting is a thumb ring if you're lucky.” Amity snarked, more of a sharp, warning bite to it than probably necessary.

“Eh, I can make it work.” Edric shrugged noncommittally, eyeing her warily before going quiet.

Silence fell over the car again, aside from the quick words shared between the twins.

Amity kept her eyes either through the windshield or her own doors window. The twins shared worried looks that Amity, for her part, pretended not to notice. She picked at her bracelets until Hexside came into view.

“Gimme the straws if you wanna see something really impressive.”

“Gus,” Willow said calmly, looking up from her half-eaten orange. “Don’t give her the straws.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Gus squeaked, holding the two straws he’d managed to get far out of Luz’s reach.

“It’s just water! Not like I’m gonna be snorting soda.” Luz complained, rolling her eyes.

“Why would you want to snort water?” Gus exclaimed, aghast. “Why with straws?”

“Because if I just shove it on my face it’ll look less cool.” Luz said it was obvious.

“I don’t think there’s a dignified way to drink water through your nose.” Willow deadpanned. “You’ll choke on it regardless.”

“Will not, I have practice,” Luz insisted. “Ergo, it’s far less idiotic than if I was doing it the first time.”

“It’s still idiotic,”

“I never said I was perfect.”

“Hey, Amity!” Gus called, breaking the two girls out of their argument. He waved across the cafeteria, where Amity had escaped the line with her tray of food.

She already looked like she was about to hit something, but then again, she always did. Gus waved her down, and Luz was almost impressed by how quickly he stopped being terrified of her, before she realized Willow was also trying to subtly wave her down. Little shits just wanted a way to stop her from her straw trick, the traitors.

Amity hesitated for a brief moment before storming over, nearly slamming her tray on the table as she stiffly sat. She didn’t really need to be waved over, she sat with them most days anyway, making Luz’s glare at her two friends all the more seething.

“Now that you’re here,” Luz said, deciding that now she was taking the petty route. “Wanna see a cool trick?”

“No,” Willow answered before Amity could, giving her a warning look. “You’ll choke on your fragile human lungs or whatever.”

“I punctured a lung once and survived, so jot that down,” Luz said matter-of-factly. “Second, I was not asking you.”

“Do I have a choice?” Amity grumbled, holding her face in her hand with a bored look.

“Not really, no.” Luz shrugged, already reaching for Gus’s straws again.

Gus was quick to take one of the straws and slide it over to Amity. She blinked down at it in surprise for a moment before rolling her eyes.

“I’m not fighting Luz over a straw.” She said, sounding almost offended.

“Really? Would’ve thought you’d fight me over the proper way to walk.” Luz raised a brow, one hand on Gus’s head as she pushed him down and snatched the first straw out of his hand.

“Keep talking and I just might,” Amity growled, shooting her a glare. “You’re making it quite easy to fantasize bashing your face against concrete.”

“I’m flattered,” Luz teased right back with a crooked, cocky grin. “I might just take you up on that offer.”

Amity flashed a large fang for a moment before grabbing whatever the witch equivalent of a yogurt container was and chucked it at Luz’s head. She yelped and ducked, letting it splat against the ground behind her. Barely anyone noticed.

“If you're not gonna eat any of that, at least give it to me.” Willow sighed, gestring to Amity’s tray. “It would make this horrendous experience more tolerable.”

“Piss off,” Amity snapped back with bared teeth, her hair almost mimicking a cat's hackles rising from how it seemed to spike. “You can live with this for ten minutes.”

Luz and Gus glanced at each other in mirrored surprise. Amity was snappy with everyone, but Willow was...uncommon. A bit gruff and sarcastic yes, but not usually as aggressive. That was reserved for pretty much everyone else save for Gus.

And, y’know, she actually tried to be nicer these days to Willow. Making amends and all that.

Willow seemed a bit taken aback by her snapping too, though it was much more dulled compared to the other two, and harder to notice unless you’re looking for it. She didn’t respond and simply shrugged, going back to eating her own food as Amity seethed, glaring at the table.

Luz looked to Gus. She looked at Willow. Both of whom were worried and confused respectively. Amity had a bad day every now and again, but normally she just...fought Luz in the hallway and got it over with.

Luz thought for a moment, the sudden silence at the table interrupted only by the soft tapping of her foot. She glanced between her tray and Amity a few times, who kept glaring at the table like she was trying her damndest to ignore the sudden tension at the table. Or she just hadn’t noticed.

After a moment or two she jerked her head up, leveling her glare with Luz.

“Would you quit it?” Amity snapped.

“Huh?” Luz startled out of her thoughts.

“Your foot sounds like it's having a seizure. You’re not doing yourself any favors here unless you're some masochist actually looking forward to getting beaten to a pulp later.” Amity growled, the nails of one of her hands digging into the table. Or did they count as claws? Luz would have to ask Guys later.

Luz watched Amity for a moment, hands clasped in front of her face. Her foot tapping had stopped. Amity’s glare turned a bit unnerved, looking around like she thought Luz was staring at something else.

“Have you ever seen human media on witches?” Luz finally blurted, ending the few seconds of silence.

“What?” Amity balked.

“Yeah, I was talking about it with Gus the other day,” Luz said, which wasn’t a lie, he had expressed interest in what humans thought of witches. The boy perked up at the mention of their conversation. “And since this geek here hasn’t seen much human media, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess you haven’t either, no?”

“Why in the world would I?” Amity frowned. “We’ve got entirely different kinds of internet compared to them, why would I even care?”

“Because,” Luz said, a mischievous smile on her face as she lowered her hands. “I grew up with that stuff, and lemme just say, from personal experience,” She said, gesturing to the cafeteria filled with witches and demons around them. “You guys would have a field day with it.”

“What, like, witch movies?” Willow mumbled, a hint of recognition lighting in her eyes.

“Movies about witches, movies with witches in them, yadda yadda,” Luz nodded, waving a hand around. “I just so happen to own a few old DVDs, as well as gaining the knowledge on how to pirate everything else,” She said, quickly raising a hand when Gus opened his mouth to speak. “No, not the pirating you’re thinking of.” She added as he slowly shut his mouth again.

“My mami’s gonna be working late today, so we’ve got plenty of time to binge the worst of the best.” Luz continued.

“And you’re mentioning this why…?” Amity frowned, tilting her head.

“Because I know you’ll get pissed off at it.” Luz said simply, her cocky smile never leaving. Also technically not a lie.

“Of course,” Amity slumped back with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Really?” Gus all but jumped out his seat, eyes shining excitedly. “This is perfect! This could be amazing for my studies on how humans have pictured witches through their current--”

“If you bring anything other than a notepad and pen I’m not letting you in my house.” Luz deadpanned.

Which was a lie, Willow can and would let Gus in no matter what he brought. But it got him to calm slightly and nod seriously.

“Trying to get out of a fight, Noceda?” Amity taunted. “I thought better of you.”

“Could you at least beat the shit out of me after the movie marathon?” Luz rolled her eyes. “I’m always down for a spar or two, but what kind of friends don’t have a movie marathon of questionable tastes on a school night?” Luz said with a raised brow.

“Want us to swing by right after school?” Willow inquired, mercifully saving Amity from her momentary shocked expression being seen by Luz.

“Nah, give it an hour or so, still gotta set things up.” Luz said. “And,” She gave a pointed glare around the whole table this time. “This time I would actually appreciate it if my neighbors didn’t get worried about someone breaking and entering by going through the window.”

“I got caught once!” Gus complained.

“And this asshole got caught three times!” Luz pointed accusingly at Amity. “We’re lucky they only called the police once before deciding it was normal.”

“Not my fault you argue with me as loud as possible every time,” Amity shot back. “You don’t argue with Gus!”

“Gus made an honest mistake, and it was his first offence.” Luz said, crossing her arms as Willow snickered. “You, on the other hand, are a menace.”

“I thought you’d have figured that out ages ago.” Amity scoffed. “Really, it's your fault for being so oblivious.”

“She’d know all about that, huh?” Willow mumbled, taking a sip of her drink.

Luz contemplated kicking her under the table. She thought better of it. She decided to just relish in Amity’s curt, slightly loosened comebacks. Better than before, at least.

Luz opened her front door only for a moment before darting back to the kitchen. Maybe she had poor host etiquette, but she kind of had some popcorn on the line here.

“Sorry we’re late!” Gus fretted, hurrying in as Willow entered behind him. “I was trying to find the right size of notepad and then Willow took a while to get ready and--”

“Sorry my flytrap got a taste for flesh again,” Willow muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it!” Luz called from her kitchen, withdrawing her popcorn and frowning when she opened it and found that half of it was burnt. Curse her shitty microwave. “Amity hasn’t gotten here yet, either.”

“Ooh, what’s that?” Gus asked, bouncing into the kitchen and around the island in the middle as he stared at the candy and chips set out.

“Human food,” Luz said, tossing the burnt popcorn aside as she got a new packet. “I’m introducing you to the real stuff. You’re gonna hate the peppermint.” She said with a grin.

“If you try to give me anything with the word ‘mint’ in its name, I won’t hesitate to hurt you.” Willow warned.

“I actually happen to value my life, contrary to popular belief.” Luz scoffed like she was an idiot. “Luckily for me,” She gestured to Gus staring at all her food, clearly not having heard anything they were saying. “I can trick that one and Amity into eating them.”

“Amity won’t make good on her promise of not fighting you until the marathon is over if you try that,” Willow warned her, wandering around the kitchen for a bit before resting beside the sink and leaning against the counter.

“Which means I can hold it over her head when she tries to make me promise I won’t do anything.” Luz said this was an ingenious plan. “It’s foolproof. I win either way.”

“I’m not so sure a black eye counts as winning,” Willow mumbled, but didn’t comment further as Luz shoved the new batch of popcorn in the microwave.

Gus reached for the candy on the island counter before Luz batted his hand away. He gave her a pitiful look and she leveled it with a harsh one of her own they both knew she didn’t mean. He got the chocolate bar anyway.

“Why does it smell like something burned alive in here?”

The three turned, looking towards the front door, that nobody had closed, thanks guys, where Amity stood. Her face was scrunched up at the smell, looking a bit frazzled but no worse for wear.

“Popcorn,” Luz said simply. “And you, Blight, are late.”

“Had to steal Em’s car,” Amity said, wandering in and eyeing the snacks on the counter. “Didn’t feel like explaining to her where I was going to need her car.”

“Don’t you have your own?” Luz said, furrows pinched together as she looked back.

Amity paused for a moment before shrugging mutely and leaning against the counter not too far away from Willow. Luz decided not to push.

“If it burns again, I’m just gonna eat it, ash and all.” Luz sighed, tapping at the glass of the microwave before sitting on the counter beside it, feet dangling off.

“It’s not supposed to look like that, then?” Willow said, picking up the discarded bag Luz hadn’t thrown away yet and peering inside. “I could eat this.”

“You’re witches, you could eat a nuclear power plant if you wanted.” Luz muttered. “I’ll just save the ashy ones for the endless maw over here.” She said, jerking her head in Amity’s direction.

“I’m touched,” Amity said dryly. “What weird human movie are you gonna be subjecting us to today?” She sighed.

“I’m so glad you asked!” Luz perked up. “We’ve got a bunch of horror movies and regular movies, but I figured we could save the horror movies for when it's really dark, so I am blessing the three of you with The Wizard of Oz as an introduction.” Luz said, practically glowing as she spoke a mile a minute.

“Wizards aren’t--”

“I know wizards aren’t witches, I learned my lesson, blame Harry Potter.” Luz said, raising a hand to Gus’s protest. “Which, no, we are not going to be watching. Anyway, there are two witches in the movie! We can save the purely witch-centered movies for later, this is just an introduction.” She said,

Gus nodded enthusiastically, listening intently as Willow snorted. Luz was quick to go off on a tangent about the different movies she’d sifted through, relishing in Willow’s tired look at the cheesy names from over half of them. She waved her hands about animatedly as she discussed movies she’d known for years and how now she got to properly bully them and--

Amity was very obviously not processing a damn thing she was saying.

She was watching Luz, same as the other two, and she was interested, but certainly not in whatever she was saying. Her ears were drooped back and she seemed just a tad more relaxed, less tense than she was earlier.

Willow, of course, being closest to the witch, noticed first.

She glanced back to the sink for a moment before grabbing the faucet, which she could pull out and appeared to have a spray option on it.

She looked to Amity for a moment, who still hadn’t stopped staring, aimed it, and turned it on.

Amity yelped and spat, jerking back, as the spray got her. Luz and Gus jerked around for just a moment before Luz burst out laughing, hunched over on the counter as Gus poorly hid giggles.

Amity whirled on Willow with a glare and a growl, the witch turning off and lowering the faucet slightly. She gave her a smug look, and, in a tone barely heard above the other twos laughing, said;

“Sorry, thought you looked thirsty.” In a dry, emotionless tone. Her gleeful grin said otherwise.

Amity spat, flushed to the tips of her ears, and took a clawed swing in Willow’s direction. The witch was unperturbed and stepped to the side to avoid a gash to the face.

“Amity, Amity no,” Luz wheezed out, dropping off the counter and quickly wrapping an arm around Amity’s midsection to stop another lunge. “You can’t fight Willow, she will kill you.”

“It’ll be worth it!” Amity snarled, pulling against Luz’s grasp with angry swipes that couldn’t quite reach Willow’s smug face, causing Luz to haul her back with both arms.

“It really won’t,” Luz said, still clearly amused by the whole thing. “The dedication is still admirable, though.”

“Uh, Luz?” Gus peered through the glass of the microwave. “I think it started burning again, it smells weird.”

“Shit!” Luz quickly released Amity, almost sending her toppling to the floor, as she rushed back to the microwave and tore it open.

She withdrew the bag and opened it with only a small wince at how hot it was, peering inside before sighing.

“Welp, it’s the best we’re gonna get.” Luz said, setting it aside.

Amity flipped off Willow, who only responded with a chuckle, as Luz continued talking about movies and gathered the snacks together to take to the living room, making Gus carry the rest. As the four wandered off towards the other room, Luz paused and looked back towards the front door.

“Jesus Christ, do you guys not know how to close doors?” She hissed, quickly dumping the snacks on the couch before going back to the front door. “Three of you come in and not one of you could remember to shut a door?”

“I got distracted by the smell of burnt failure,” Amity defended, taking the corner of the couch for herself.

“This is gonna be worse for you,” Luz called, shutting the front door and skidding back in. “You have a better sense of smell than me.”

“Not my house,” Amity shrugged as Luz quickly took the middle of the coach before Gus could. The boy gave her a comically betrayed look as Willow took the floor and he had to be squished into the other corner.

“You’re still getting the burnt popcorn,” Luz said, fishing on the coffee table through the snacks for the remote. “Maybe I’ll be nice and throw you a normal one here and there to spice it up.”

“How sweet of you,” Amity grumbled, crossing her arms and leaning back further on the couch as Luz started flipping on the TV.

“Also, as a heads up,” Luz added as she readied the DVD already mostly set up. “I may have gone on a research binge when I was younger for about seventy percent of these movies, so you’re all going to be subjected to weird facts I know.”

“Are we sure this isn’t a torture experiment?” Willow teased, leaning against the couch between Luz and Gus.

“Torture for you, maybe.” Luz corrected. “I’m gonna have the time of my life.”

Six and a half movies later, Gus had filled out almost every page of his notepad, and Luz had barely escaped getting broken teeth. There were cries of outrage, confusion, and plenty of shouting at the screen for inaccuracies. Lots of ‘look, it's you!’ from Luz at whatever weird or villainous thing the witch on screen did towards her friends, particularly Amity, and receiving bruises on her arms and sides for her troubles. The Wizard of Oz had been the worst, what with her comparing the Wicked Witch’s green skin to Amity’s hair.

They fought over the last piece of candy from a pack, Amity tried sneaking a grab at the un-burnt popcorn pieces and decided she liked the ashy ones better (to which Luz looked rather horrified) while stealing any of the sour patches Willow tried to nab as retribution. Luz introduced Gus and Amity to the peppermint, which almost ended in Amity fighting her right there and then if it weren’t for Willow threatening to beat both of them up if they didn’t quit it. Long, informative rants from Gus the girls all groaned through, Luz going on and on about facts about the movie productions, and a certain instance where they were pretty sure one of the actors in the movie they were watching was actually a witch, and things were finally winding down.

Gus had already passed out, the poor guy, and Willow didn’t look too far behind. Amity was probably only awake out of spite at this point, and even she looked close to sleep. Luz was hardly paying attention to the TV anymore, the volume lowered for Gus's sake more than anything.

“It’s gonna be such a pain in the ass to get to school tomorrow,” Willow muttered bitterly, eyes shut as she leaned back against the couch.

“Nothing important is for another week,” Luz lazily waved a hand. “We can afford to pass out in class.”

“You’re the last person who can afford to skimp out on work,” Amity mumbled. “Gus is already smart, and Willow and I can intimidate the teachers into giving us a pass.”

“Bullies, the two of you.” Luz huffed. “You’re just gonna leave me to rot, huh? Let me fend for myself in this vicious world? I thought better of you.”

“No you didn’t,” Amity scoffed. “Now shut up, you’re too loud.” She complained, batting at the human's face.

“You’re just tired, I’m talking at a perfectly reasonable volume.” Luz rolled her eyes. “Witch hearing isn’t so fun now, is it?”

Amity gave Luz a glare and a weak, croaky growl in the back of her throat. Luz gave a poor attempt at a mock-growl back. Amity was quick to raise a hand and make a grab at Luz when Willow spoke up, still perfectly still even in her half-asleep state.

“Both of you be quiet,” Willow gruffed, immediately getting the two to quickly freeze.

They held still for a brief few moments, glancing between each other and Willow. After a minute or two with Willow not making any other movements or further tired threats, they slowly relaxed back into the couch, Amity giving up on swiping at Luz.

“You’re growling is horrible,” Amity whispered, barely audible above the soft hum of the television.

“Unfortunately, I was born with vocal cords that don’t let me sound like a crocodile on steroids.” Luz whispered back. “But I spent a good few years of my childhood mimicking cat sounds, so I like to think that’ll give me an edge.”

“Do I even want to ask?” Amity grimaced, giving Luz a hesitant look.

“I was a really weird kid,” Luz shrugged, constantly glancing at Willow to make sure she was quiet enough not to wake her up.

“You still are,” Amity deadpanned.

“Aw, how sweet.” Luz placed a hand on her chest with an emotional expression. “Never thought you had it in you.”

Amity muttered a quick ‘move’ as her only warning before she sharply punched Luz’s arm. The human hissed and jerked away, rubbing at the sore spot.

“You know it doesn’t actually count as a warning if you give zero room for a reaction, right?” Luz grumbled.

“I give you plenty room, you had a whole second there to move.” Amity replied, voice lowered as she leaned against the arm of the couch. “A warning is a warning, be grateful I’m giving one at all.”

“Your honor code is a Roulette wheel,” Luz huffed.

“It’s not a--”

Gus shifted and the two of them went quiet again. They watched him as he shifted around in his sleep and almost went careening off the couch. Luz shot out a hand and caught his back, holding him right on the edge as he settled down again. She slowly pushed him back onto the couch, and he barely reacted.

They breathed a sigh of relief, laying back against the couch. Amity leaned her back against the arm of the couch and stretched out her legs, kicking up against Luz’s side. She turned to glare at the witch, momentarily caught off guard by the eerie glow Amity’s eyes had in the shifting, dim light from the television. Amity didn’t break eye contact.

She couldn’t help but feel like she was being studied. Like a cat determining whether or not it was worth it to go after a bird in the garden. Her blank face didn’t help matters.

“You’re sure your mom won’t realize we’re here?” Amity spoke before Luz could, eyes never leaving her.

“Uh, no, no, she’s usually pretty tired whenever she gets back, and we’re out of view of the front door, so she’ll just go to sleep and we’ll be at school before she wakes up.” Luz said, the first to break eye contact. “I’m more worried about you guys’ parents wondering where you went off to.”

“Eh, Willow can handle her dads.” Amity shrugged, slowly turning her head away to watch the movie after Luz looked away. “Gus’s dad is the only one we’ll have to be worried about.”

“Really? Would’ve thought a rich girl like you had a stricter curfew.” Luz teased, shaking off the tension from earlier. “They let you party all night, any night?”

Amity didn’t respond. Luz noted the claws on one of her hands slid unsheathed. Alright then, touchy subject. That didn’t surprise her much, considering how she’d spoken of them in the past.

“...I can’t believe you liked these movies.” Amity eventually sighed, scoffing at some scene involving wands and whatnot on screen. “No wonder you were so helpless when you came to Hexside.”

“Hey!” Luz snapped, remembering to lower her voice at the last second. “This ‘helpless’ human has fought the cliche trigger-happy jock and won.” She accused, pointing towards Amity.

“You have not.” Amity scoffed. “It's not a winning fight until someone surrenders or runs off.”

“So you’re saying we end in draws, then?” Luz raised a brow. “I still think that looks pretty good on my record.”

“Your record went up in flames months ago,” Amity rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky you're easy to pity.”

“Going soft on me, Blight?” Luz teased, sticking out her tongue. “Or are you that worried I might win?”

Amity glared at her, claws still unsheathed, Luz noted without changing her face from her taunting expression. Amity’s eyes narrowed for a second and she growled, and that was her only warning before she sprung out of her position and lunged.

Luz choked back a laugh and a surprised squeak as she jerked back, raising her foot and kicking at Amity to hold her at bay. She almost landed right over Gus, just barely missing him as Amity hissed and one of her claws dug into the side of Luz’s leg, ow.

The other hand lashed out to hit Luz before she caught her wrist and held it away just enough to avoid her claws, pushing her leg on Amity’s stomach further out to keep her off.

“Time and a place, Ames.” Luz whispered, cocking a brow as she jerked her head in the direction of Willow still sleeping leaned against the couch, almost definitely bound to wake up if they started a fight now. And Gus.

Amity glowered, lips pulled back to flash honestly ridiculously oversized fangs. Not that she was complaining of course. She looked like she still wanted to tackle Luz despite the poor repercussions that would follow, but alas, she eventually pulled her wrist out of Luz’s now lax grip.

Luz kicked her and Amity wheezed, falling back onto her side of the couch as Luz snickered and drew her legs back under her. She frowned at the tears in her jeans and scratches along her leg and flipped off Amity with her most exasperated look.

Amity’s hair puffed up as she repeated the gesture. They scowled at each other for a few moments before Luz gave up and shook her head, allowing a quiet chuckle at the ridiculousness of the two of them. Amity sighed and lowered her hand as Luz did the same, expression softening as Luz leaned further back against the couch, ears lowered.

“Wake me before I miss the first period, will ya?” Luz asked, right before leaning right across the couch and onto Amity’s arm.

“Not in your life.” Amity hissed, tensing. Her hands twitched and she looked ready to shove the human off, who only gave her a smug look and finger guns in response.

“You're lucky I put up with you.” Amity grumbled, clearly deciding against pushing her to the floor.

“Feelings mutual,” Luz said, waving a hand casually before shutting her eyes. “Just keep quiet and I won’t have to make you sleep in your car.”

“Sure, make me sleep in my car.” Amity scoffed, leaning her head back against the couch and letting her eyelids fall. “Nice one, Noceda.”

“I know, I’m hilarious.” She grinned, not bothering to open her eyes.

Amity rolled her eyes before closing her eyes as well, arms loosely crossed as she let Luz adjust against her side. Luz could still hear the quiet hum of the TV still playing the movie, but decided against turning it off. Too much effort, and the movie would end soon, anyway. It was far too quiet to disturb anyone.

Amity hadn’t legitimately snapped at anyone since the second movie, so really, Luz would call tonight a win.

Though it took only a moment before Amity, also not reopening her eyes, reached out and yanked Luz’s beanie over her face.

“Wh--hey!” Luz snapped, flailing around and managing to land a smack or two on Amity, who, in response, hissed and pushed at her face.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Both of them froze at the sound of Willow’s tired voice, a snarl laced in her tone. They looked over only for a moment to spot her glaring at the two of them with malice before they immediately went back to their previous sleeping positions, eyes shut tight.

None of them moved for the rest of the night.

97 notes · View notes

arhvste · 4 years

Text

next stop iwa-chan!

“looking for heartbreaks, headaches the doctor says it diagnosed with shit days, mistakes but i’ll be fine, but i’ll be fine, cause you’re my painkiller, when my brain gets bitter, you keep me close, when i been miserable”

“breakfast was okay right?”

“yes haijime, it was perfect.”

“good just checking.”

iwaizumi turned to face his new girlfriend and had a soft smile across his face.

the term ‘girlfriend’ felt different. y/n had practically been his girlfriend for a while now but without the label, but after making things official, iwaizumi found himself quite liking the once disliked term. y/n as his girlfriend just sounded right, it was as if by giving her the title, the whole definition and sentiment of the label had been renewed and rewritten and that was something only y/n could do in iwaizumi’s eyes.

“why’re you smiling you weirdo?” y/n laughed lightly and poked iwaizumi’s cheek to which he blushed.

“s-shut up i’m just thinking.”

“yeah? about what?”

“you.”

y/n scoffed and turned away from the man laying next to her momentarily.

“gross haijime!” she whined giggling before turning back to him, heat rising to her own face.

“you asked, i answered.” he shrugged as he admired y/n’s features.

he’d always insisted that he wasn’t attracted purely by looks, obviously that was a weighing factor because everyone has physical preferences somewhere but, iwaizumi truly felt like he’d just struck lucky with y/n. not only was she the most compatiable girl for him but she was ridiculously pretty in his eyes.

he’d compare her to an angel but he still felt that didn’t do her justice. everything about her felt so perfect right now. the way he was given the gift of getting to have y/n’s sleeping face and tousled hair as his first sight of the day, the way the sun shone down on her only enhancing her ethereal type presence. iwaizumi had never been in a moment where everything felt so in place. this was how things were meant to be and her certainly wanted more moments like these in the future to come.

“god, i love you.”

his voice gruff, sleep still yet to be shaken from it but, a genuine tone still underlined his statement. y/n knew he only said things when he meant it and right now, she knew he really really meant it.

“i love you too haijime.”

“no, no,” he shook his head, bringing his hand up to cup y/n’s cheek.

“i really am in love with you- fuck. you’ve done this to me.” a bright blush dusted over his face as a warm expression graced her face.

she sighed happily and pulled herself in closer to her boyfriend, resting her palm flat against his chest as his hand remained on her cheek.

“i’m happy your friend stalked me at the train station you know.”

“is that so? well, i can’t say i’m exactly mad about it now either.”

“you were mad about it?”

“fuming, you can’t just go around bothering strangers and trick them for personal entertainment.”

y/n snickered and patted iwaizumi’s toned chest.

“i think he meant well, i don’t believe it was for personal entertainment.”

“i bet it was; at first anyway.” he grunted, focus not once leaving the girl in front of him.

“well in that case for personal entertainment, he won’t be invited to our wedding.”

“o-ur what?!”

y/n laughed and buried her face into iwaizumi’s cotton t-shirt.

“you’re so cute haijime, i was kidding!”

she could hear his heartbeat pick up the pace and the quickened speed of his breathing. a moment of silence washed over the pair as they laid there neither uttering a word.

y/n closed her eyes as she focused on the steadying of his heartbeat when she felt a strong arm pull her on top of him.

“you might be kidding, but one day you’re going to be an iwaizumi i’m sure of that.”

it was now y/n’s turn to have a heart race like she’d just run a marathon. the tables had been turned and of course it was always him that had her cornered in her own games.

“shut up! don’t tease me like that!” she whined from on top of him as he wrapped his built arms around her securing her in place.

“i told you i’m not kidding, i wanna wake up like this everyday and besides,” a sly smirk tugged at his lips and he tilted his head closer to y/n’s.

“i like the way y/n iwaizumi sounds, don’t you?”

y/n huffed and shook her head in embarrassment resulting in iwaizumi to raise an eyebrow.

“no? i don’t think you mean that do you princess...”

“haijime! stop! you’re not fair i said i’d be the one flustering you!”

“oh y/n, nobody likes a sore loser.”

iwaizumi snickered under the girls body while she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

“i warned you.” she muttered as she bit his neck causing him to yelp in surprise.

y/n then looked back up at the man below her and sent him a small smile. “that’s what happens when you annoy me.” she murmered as iwaizumi stared at the girl in disbelief.

“you’re unbelievable, i can’t say i don’t like that though.”

“gross.”

iwaizumi laughed and pulled her off of him and back onto her side. even just talking and playing in bed together felt new and exciting. it was as if he was experiencing what a relationship was all over again. like y/n was his first ever girlfriend and this was his first ever encounter with a relationship.

everything felt so natural, so pure, so right with y/n and he knew she was someone he’d want to keep close to him for the rest of his life.

obviously, having only of made y/n his girlfriend last night iwaizumi wasn’t going to get down on one knee just yet. he decided he’d have to wait a while for that. but still, thoughts of living a permanent life with y/n made him feel warm and excited at the same time.

“hey.”

“hm?” y/n hummed and met his eyes.

“i think we should meet your friends.”

y/n raised an eyebrow and stroked his cheek so delicately as if she were scared to break him.

“my friends? you know them briefly already don’t you?”

“i do... but i want to meet them properly you know... as your boyfriend.”

“i love hearing you say that.” y/n sighed and nodded. she was thrilled he was okay at taking things a little further. her friends had been rooting for this since the beginning so of course was was ecstatic about him wanting to introduce himself with his new title.

“you tell me when and i’ll sort it out.”

“today at lunch?”

“today at lunch it is.”

y/n smiled brightly as iwaizumi returned it. while it was only 10:58AM she knew the two would have to get up and dressed soon but still, before meeting her friends she wanted to enjoy the moment just a little longer.

even though there were so many more similar moments to come with iwaizumi.

next stop iwa-chan!

masterlist

an - iwaizumi’s search history does include engagement rings but that’s only because oikawa facetimed him and forced him to look and let him judge them

akaashi’s playgroup || two pretty setters and co

part 32 - details

part 33 - morning murmuring

part 34 - comedic duo

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#iwaizumi haijime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi smau #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #next stop iwa chan

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wickedgamesoyaoya · 4 years

Text

Irritation weaved through your limbs, devouring every nerve and cell with no remorse. The only remedy that was available for the virus contaminating your blood sat ahead of you, belittling you with the familiar scent that would tickle your nose whenever the waitress would slip on by. There was a reason you vowed to remain sober for the evening. Ingesting liquor would simply draw out the one emotion you were strategically masking with artificial laughter and twinkling smiles. Your new acquaintances found entertainment in your façade, and they made no inquiry into the truth behind your sarcastic words. For the smile painted across your lips indicated that you were satisfied with their company, they did not have even the slightest inkling of the emotions sickening your core.

Your best friend did, however, catch the tremors in your fingers, and the incessant tapping that sounded underneath the table. Oikawa tried to console you, with exaggerated praise and comedy. The others at the table were consumed by the performance, but your mind would not permit you a moment of peace.

It had been hours since you spoke to your two friends about locating your fiancé. Their silence was uncharacteristic and supplied confirmation that your fiancé did something, or perhaps was going to do something. Something that none of the others would dare to say. This newfound loyalty towards the cook was puzzling to say the least.

But was it really a matter of loyalty…? What could he have done that would compel silence from three of your best friends? Was it that terrible that each of your friends refused to be the bearer of bad news?

With your questions unanswered, the only option was to forget they existed.

Curling your fingers around the stem of the glass, the cold liquid was brought to your lips, earning you cheers from your new friends. The chocolate shavings defeated the bitterness your throat had craved, yet you were thankful for the weight the alcohol had lifted from your shoulders.

One drink turned into two, then three… and then four. When you endeavoured to order a fifth, Oikawa intercepted, swapping your glass with his. Instead of abiding with his request to sober-up, you scooped out an ice cube from the water glass then flicked it at Francisco.

“What was that for?”

“Well, Juliana said you were too hot, so I thought I’d cool you down.” The words were purred out slowly and followed by a half-hearted wink.

“Y/n, you know that’s not how it works.” Oikawa contemplated apologizing on your behalf, but your antics did not seem to phase the model.

“Shh, I don’t wanna hear your voice.” A single finger was pressed against the setter’s mouth, which twitched into a pout. Turning your attention away from him, you pressed yourself against the table edge, then leaned forward, dropping your voice to a whisper. “You guys know my best friends are more loyal to my fiancé than they are to me?”

“Y/n…” Guilt twisted into a dagger that planted directly inside of Oikawa’s heart. He was keeping this secret for you, not for the damn cook. He knew that come tomorrow; the younger Miya’s presence would replace the pain circling your thoughts with happiness. That was all he wanted. Your happiness. But he should have known this would backfire, patience was not your strong suit.

“I don’t think that’s true, y/n. I saw your social media. These guys care a lot about you.” Francisco countered after witnessing the grief in the setter’s eyes. From their limited interaction, the model was able to pick up on certain things – he knew the bond between you and Oikawa ran deeper than any friendship he could claim to have. He was envious of your relationship, really. And he also knew that it was the liquor that prompted your allegations, not the truth.

“Nope,” Popping your P’s, you shook your head. “Only Hajime cares about me. He’s the only one who is loyal to me! Isn’t that right, Tooru?” Both of your eyebrows were provided a taunting lift, but you knew he would never admit to a lie.

“You know it’s not.” The protest was exhaled softly, at this point the correct decision would be to confess where your fiancé was. However, when he opened his mouth to supply you the information, you ripped your gaze away from him then declared your own answer to the question posed.

“No, I don’t. What I do know is that I have a phone call to make.”

As you stepped away from the table, the setter groaned out your name, in hope to stop you. When he realized you would likely refuse to return, he removed a few bills from his wallet then placed it on the table.

“Thanks for inviting us. Sorry, my sweet little y/n gets a little emotional when she drinks. But it’s time we head out anyway.” Despite the worry lines etching into his delicate features, he presented them a departing smile. Juliana practically choked on her drink at the sight.

“No need to apologize to us. We had a good time. I hope things work out between y/n and her fiancé. She really does love him.” Francisco lifted his glass, accompanying the motion with a nod of acknowledgement. To Oikawa’s surprise, there was not even a hint of malice underlying his comments.

“Yeah she sure does.” Laughter spilled from the setter’s lips as he mumbled a repeated farewell. He sincerely hoped that Osamu loved you just as much.

The phone call you were referring to during your dramatic exit was meant for Iwaizumi. With the alcohol amplifying your emotions, you needed the trainer’s soft reassurances. You needed someone in your corner. Yet, your plan did not go unaltered. Battered by the icy breeze roaming the streets, you were stripped of every emotion except one – sorrow.

It should be no surprise that the person you elected to call was no longer Iwaizumi. The number you had dialed went straight to voicemail, though the pre-recorded greeting almost successfully tricked your intoxicated senses. When the beep signalled for you to begin, a deep breath was inhaled to prepare your lungs for the lengthy rant that would commence.

“Let me just say… it is seriously rude that you are ignoring me when you were the one desperate to talk that day. I even tried to keep my promise to Shin… I hate you. I hate you so damn much. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you... I hate that I can’t stop loving you.” A pause was administered only when the liquid glazing over your eyes completely distorted your vision. Aggressively, you discarded the tears, smudging the mascara coating your eyelashes in the process.

“I hate that I miss your stupid face. It’s the stupidest face ever… I can’t believe you hurt me and then ghosted me! Get the fuck out of here, dude.” To help ease the strain now entering your temples, you pressed your fingers against your forehead in a soothing manner.

“Don’t ask me why I called you dude. I don’t know… But you and I are going to fight. That’s how we’re going to settle this now. No more talking. You better be ready punk, when I see you, it’s on.”

You would have added some additional threats if Oikawa had not snatched the phone out of your grasp, immediately clicking the end button.

“You’ve had a lot of fun this evening, haven’t you? Come on. It’s time to go home.”

Let’s do it again, shall we - sus-kawa

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: lmao that voicemail is going to be a great landing present for osamu.

taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @vicassa @yourstarvic @bringmelily @newfriendjen @hikarichannn @anime-simp @tsukkismamagucci @laughingismorefun @astronomyturtle @shegrewupwithoutafather @hyskoa1998 @deephumandragonperson @pretty-setter-bois @raenebalgaire @sugawarabby @justanotherfangirl2 @keijisworld @90s-belladonna @momoinot @sempiternal-amour @cherryblosom111 @yqshirov @haikyuufairy @volleybloop @bloody-bella @4fterh0urs @seikamuzu @namyari @toaster-stick @coconut-dreamz @roseestuosity @prcttylittlcthing @uzumakioden @nerdynstoned @kenmasgameboy @unstableye @ouijaeater15 @aquariarose @fandomtrashpandasposts @helloalex80 @stfucanunot @envyusshades @cuddlesslut @seijohiseliterambles @meiikuki @cuddlejeongin @tchalameme @ditu-m9 @elianetsantana

Taglist continued in the comments from my personal ❣️

#osamu x reader #osamu smau #osamu x you #osamu scenario #hq osamu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smau #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #osamu miya #miya osamu

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peakyswritings · 3 years

Text

Patience

500 followers celebration🎉

Celebration masterlist

Requested by: anonymous

Prompt: #patience

Summary: at Tommy and Grace’s wedding, you start to think that maybe it’s time to face the truth. Something’s broken and you’re not sure you can fix it.

Warnings: angst, drinking

Gif credits: x

“Can we at least pretend to be fine?” you asked your husband, standing next to him in a corner of the great room. It was probably the biggest wedding you had ever been to. Arrow House was beautifully decorated, whoever took care of the ornaments paid meticulous attention to every detail. Nevertheless, the tension between the Shelbys and the cavalry was something that no one could ignore; everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells, for a single wrong move could potentially ruin the whole ceremony. Moreover, the fact that things between you and Arthur weren’t going too well didn’t help. You were either fighting or ignoring each other, with some sporadic moments of peace in-between. Even in those moments, there was nothing of the spontaneity that had always distinguished your relationship. It all happened gradually, until you became two strangers living in the same house.

He took a sip from his flask, not looking at you.

“It seems like you have enough problems for tonight anyway” you mumbled the last sentence, crossing your arms over your chest. His brows furrowed in agitation as he glanced at you, shifting uncomfortably in his place. He was never good at hiding things from you.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean”

You weren’t stupid. You had noticed the way the Shelby brothers were on edge, waiting for someone. It wasn’t just a wedding. The race and the fighting match going on outside the house were the proof. You had known the Shelbys long enough to learn their tricks. A distraction to hide something. You wondered how much time it would take for your husband to disappear again. He didn’t reply, putting the flask back in his vest pocket.

“It’s nothing too important” he vaguely said, leaning against the wall and fiddling with his watch. “Just business”

It was clear that he was trying to get away from that conversation, but wouldn’t let him win so easily.

“Oh, now I understand” you narrowed your eyes “you don’t know anything about it. You just do what Tommy tells you to do”

His silence gave you the answer. You tried to look calm, but on the inside you were raging. You weren’t angry with him, at least not completely; what was making you furious was the fact that Arthur was going to put himself in danger again, without even knowing the reason.

“I heard someone speaking Russian” you said at some point. “I remember you saying Russians are not people to mess with. What changed your mind?” you inquired, turning to look at him.

“I trust him”

“You trust him” you scoffed.

“Yeah I do”

“Of course you do. But I don’t.”

“I thought we had to pretend to be fine” he changed the subject.

Before you had the chance to reply, Tommy gestured towards him from the opposite side of the room. Arthur nodded and moved away from the wall. He placed a hand on the back of your head and pressed a kiss on your temple, lingering for a moment before pulling away. “I’ll be right back”

You watched him while he walked away, with an apprehensive look on your face.

He blindly did what his brother wanted, not expecting an explanation or caring about the consequences. Then he ended up broken, riddled with guilt and it became harder and harder for him to pick up the pieces. The hardest part was that there was nothing you could do to lift that weight off of his shoulders.

You looked at Grace, a big smile lit up her features as she talked with some family members. She probably didn’t know anything either. Even though you didn’t really like her, a wave of compassion hit you. It was meant to be her day, after all. You shook your head, taking a glass of champagne from the silver plate held by a server who walked by, drinking it in one go. She would learn really soon that Shelby wives had no say in their husbands’ business.

******

You watched as everyone slowly left the room; some guests were so drunk that they couldn’t even stand. Four hours later, you still didn’t know where Arthur was. Maybe it was time to start looking for him. You walked out the house, shivering at the contact with the cold breeze. A figure sitting alone on the stairs caught your attention. When you sat next to him, he didn’t even raise his head.

You took a moment to look at him. With his loose tie and disheveled hair, he looked drained. At the same time, his messy appearence made him look younger, almost like when you met. But a melancholic gaze had replaced his boyish grin and in the man in front of you there seemed to be nothing of the boy you had met all those years ago.

You didn’t know what to do. Did he want to talk about what happened? Or did he want to be left alone?

He removed his coat, placing it on your shoulders.

“Don’t ask” he simply said, as if he could read your mind.

You rested with your head on his shoulder, looking at the way the grass moved in the wind. You sat there in silence, not saying a word even after all the guests were gone.

“How did we get to this point?” you asked all of a sudden. There was no accusation in your voice, just a bitter sadness. “We used to always tell each other everything. To talk about everything. What changed?”

“We changed. You realised that some things will always stay the same, that this is how our life is” he observed, shrugging his shoulders “and I...I’m not a good man. I want to be a good man, but I’m not”

He was right. Something broke between the two of you long ago, something you couldn’t fix. The worst thing was that you didn’t even know why. It just happened. You grew apart. As much as you tried to ignore it, the truth was right in front of your eyes. It became clear that day, when you saw how happy Grace and Tommy looked despite the circumstances, how their love showed through every glance and gesture. You and Arthur hadn’t looked at each other like that in a long time.

But you desperately wanted to think that a part of the man you fell in love with was still there, under the the violence and the drinking and the killing. You could see it in the way he wanted to be good so bad, in his sensitivity, in the way on certain nights his arms still felt welcoming. Even in the way he was always loyal to his brother, no matter how it hurt him. And you didn’t wanna believe that everything was lost.

“I still love you, Arthur”

It was true. Love couldn’t go away just like that. It was not something you could turn off when you wanted to. A part of you wished you could, because it would’ve been easier. You could’ve called a solicitor, packed your things and left the house- you even got to the point of almost doing it- but the love that bound you to him stopped you every time. Because the thought of being away from him made you feel like you couldn’t breathe. You never thought that unconditional love actually existed, but what else could you call the bond that forced you to to stay even when you didn’t see the point?

He didn’t say a word, but you knew he loved you too. He didn’t need to say it out loud. The way he he sighed in relief and brought you closer to him gave you the answer you needed.

Maybe it wasn’t everything lost, after all. You didn’t know if you would ever be able to fix it, but you could try. You chose to ignore once again the part of you that told you that love wasn’t enough. With patience, things could get better.

Tag list: @arwyn-the-cyrptic-bisexural @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fics #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby x reader

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eideticmemory · 4 years

Text

EVER SINCE NEW YORK | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic.

PART 1! - for Sara [@bravadostyles], the ultimate muse.

SOUNDTRACK:

Empire State of Mind - Jay Z.

Animals - Maroon 5.

Dopamine - Børns.

Word Count: 4,731.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, recreational drug use, a bit of angst.

Spring, Freshman Year.

Tisch School of the Arts,

New York University.

New York City.

“You’ve got that face on,” Claire said.

“What face is that, Claire?”

“Your trademark ready-to-go-home face,” she giggled. “You tired?”

“Just a little,” you whispered, head resting on her shoulder, feet hanging off the bed. “Had a long day at rehearsal.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “Well, if you wanna go, we can go. I’ll walk you home.”

“No,” you shook your head, and placed your hand on her arm. “It’s fine. I’m having a good time.”

Soft music played through the small speakers on Jonathan’s desk, mixing in with the chatter of your friends. Everyone sat in different spaces around the room, some on the desk, some on John’s bed, and you and Claire rested on his roommate’s bed. Open solo cups of beer were scattered amongst the room. It was calm, chill, and then the door swung open.

“Yoooooo!” The entering voice rang, instantly earning a happy response from Johnathan, who hopped off his bed and ran towards the entrance.

“Gube!” John exclaimed, arms open wide to embrace his friend. He always got a little touchy-feely when he was tipsy. “Where the hell you been, man?”

“Consider my good time ruined,” you murmured to Claire.

“Be nice, [y/n],” she responded, patting your leg. “Everyone’s having a nice time, don’t start anything.”

“Me? Me? I don’t start anything, I never start anything. It’s him who starts it. That di—“

“Hey, [y/n],” Matthew greeted, taking a seat beside John. “Hey, Claire.”

“Hey, Gube,” Claire smiled. She gave you a gentle nudge with her elbow.

You rolled your eyes, “Hi, Matthew,” you reluctantly replied, refusing to make eye contact.

“Aw, c’mon, that’s all I get?” Matthew teased. “What’s wrong, sleeping beauty? You tired?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you told him, finally looking over at him. He wore a white polo, paired with a busted pair of jeans and white converse with his mismatched socks poking out. On his chest sat his trademark gold chain, the medallion set in the center of his sternum.

“Might be past your bedtime,” he shrugged. “Really. Might be better if you just left.”

“Me?” You scoffed. “Why don’t you leave? We were perfectly fine before you got here.”

“Oh, God,” someone groaned. “Here they go.”

“John wants me here. I’m a little more fun than someone who falls asleep mid-conversation, so I can see why.”

“Matthew, why are you talking to me? Can you just pretend,” you waved your arms around. “Pretend there’s a wall here.”

“Don’t mind her,” Claire interjected. “She’s crabby because she hasn’t started editing her project yet.”

You gasped, “Why would you just announce that, Claire? I didn’t wanna be reminded of that.”

“[y/n], you’re gonna be fucked if you don’t get that shit done. It’s due next week.” Another friend told you.

You groaned, “Yes. I know that. But I’ve been killing myself practicing for the show every night. And when I finally sat down to start editing, I didn’t know how to work the damn software!”

“You don’t know how to work EasyEdit?”

“No,” you sighed. “I missed class that day. I tried to learn on YouTube, and that confused me even more. So, I have since then given up.”

“Hm,” John hummed. “You know who’s really good with EasyEdit?”

“Who?”

“Gube,” John answered. This prompted Matthew to lift his head up at astronomical speed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He taught me how to use it. He could help you, [y/n].”

“John...” Claire said.

“What, Claire?” John replied. “[y/n] needs help and Gube can help. I’m just saying.”

You cut your eyes over to Matthew, who was watching you, but he quickly turned away when you made eye contact.

“You’re not clever,” Claire shook her head. “You’re nosey is what you are.”

“Nosey?” You pipped, tapping Claire’s arm. “What do you mean nosey?”

“I mean, if you and Gube just...” John said. “I’m gonna say it - fucked - one good time, the two of you could get over this whole rivalry already.”

“And stop arguing all the damn time,” someone added. “The shit’s annoying.”

Your jaw had been dropped since the word ‘fucked’ was uttered. You looked up at Claire who gave you a sympathetic smile.

“I-“ You stuttered. “I...never say that again, John! Ever. Ew!”

“Ew?” Matthew exclaimed. “You’d be lucky if I tossed you a bone.”

Your jaw dropped even lower, stunned by Matthew’s words. “You arrogant son of a bitch,” you muttered. “And this is who you want me to allow near my final project?” You directed at John.

“Hey, if you don’t wanna fuck me, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Matthew taunted, biting his lip and tilting his head.

“No. I don’t wanna fuck you! I also don’t want to spend any more time with you than I absolutely have to. So I will learn EasyEdit by myself.”

“Okay,” Matthew shrugged. “You’re not gonna figure that shit out in time, but fine, princess. Be stubborn.”

You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head in annoyance.

“[y/n], let Gube help,” Claire said. “You’re gonna drive yourself insane with that and the show coming up, plus finals? Just this once.”

You looked over at Matthew, instantly getting angry again. Hate is a strong word. It’s a very, very strong word. And you’d never use it against anybody. Ever. Except Matthew Gubler. That may sound a bit dramatic, so to clear up any confusion, here’s a composite list of every asshole, dick, bastard, bitch-ass move he’s made in one semester:

1. Broke your editing equipment trying to do magic tricks in class.

2. Didn’t apologize.

3. Called your last documentary “uninspired, dry, a little like a lullaby.”

4. Took the last spot for an internship over Christmas break.

5. Which he knew you wanted.

6. Refused to partner with you on a final project because “you can’t even get to class everyday.”

7. In front of everyone because he’s a jackass.

8. Told you that you were insane for majoring in film making AND ballet.

9. Proceeded to tell you that you look better in a leotard than a suit.

10. Fucked your roommate.

11. While you were in the room.

12. Insisted that Wes Craven is a better horror director than Tim Burton? Is he dumb?

13. Calls you ballerina barbie, short stack, princess, anything other than your actual name.

14. Won’t drop dead.

And, because you’re not going to let anyone treat you that way, here’s a list of things you’ve done in retaliation:

1. “Accidentally” stepped on his canvas.

2. 3 times.

3. Uploaded a video of you calling him a dick in place of his documentary.

4. Yes, he did play it for the class on accident.

5. Told him you didn’t want to be his partner anyway since he walks around stoned 24/7.

6. Laughed.

7. Told him he’d be a good ballerina. His tiny dick would fit perfectly in a leotard.

8. Fucked his friend. While said friend was supposed to help Matthew with his project.

9. Told him none of Edgar Allan Poe’s work was actually interesting enough for screen time. (He almost passed out, he got so mad.)

10. Told him his mismatch socks were dumb.

11. Consistently call him asshole, dick, jackass, or just Matthew. All synonyms.

12. Refuse to let him mess with you.

So, the idea of him helping you with your project, coming into your room, bothering you for hours on end, was a ridiculous thought. You should punch John for even mentioning it. Except. It wasn’t a bad idea.

“Hey, pants stay on,” Matthew said, giving you a smirk. “Boy Scouts honor.”

Everyone was looking at you. It made you queasy. Annoyed. Angry. And you couldn’t take it. So, you sighed heavily and cut your eyes towards Matthew. “Fine,” you grimaced. “Fine. Monday night. You will teach me how to use EasyEdit. And then we can all drop this.”

“Ah, success,” John cheered. “I’m not worried, though. Look at [y/n], she’s so innocent. She looks like she belongs on top of a Christmas tree. She does ballet for crying out loud. I doubt fucking is on her to-do list.”

“And on that note,” you pushed yourself off the bed. “I’m going to my room. Goodnight.”

Your room was just down the hall, and you showered, changed, brushed your teeth and got into bed in all of 30 minutes. Just about to fall asleep, you were disturbed by the sound of keys jingling in the door. Sloppy footsteps stumbled into the room, accompanied by silly giggles.

Thinking you were asleep, your roommate admired your sleeping frame, “Awwww,” she cooed. “Precious, precious, [y/n].” She walked over to you and rubbed your shoulder.

“You’re crazy to not wanna fuck Matthew,” she whispered, chuckling. “You don’t know what you’re missing, kid.”

And you stayed still, silent, pretended to snore. All while Claire crawled into her bed.

When Monday rolled around, you spent the entire day with a chip on your shoulder. Claire kissed the top of your head and insisted you’d be fine, that your project would be done by the end of the night and you’d be grateful for Matthew’s help. But she knew that was a dead cause in her heart of hearts. You both knew it’d be a miracle if Matthew and you made it through 15 minutes of editing.

When she left to go to a friend’s place, you changed into pajama pants, combined with a cozy cropped button sweater. You sat at your desk, and waited. You’d told Matthew to arrive at 7.

He got there at 7:59.

By then, you were laying in bed, pissed and upset that you’d actually been convinced to give Matthew a chance. He knocked on the door, and you answered with an attitude. “Go home, Matthew.”

“Don’t be like that, short stack,” he sighed, following you as you stomped into the room. “I got caught up. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? What’d you get caught up with? A gram?” You spit.

He laughed, “Haha, so funny. No, I was not getting high. I was working on my own project. That I finished. Ahead of time. Can you relate, [y/n]?”

“Get out of my room,” you scoffed. “I asked you for one thing. One. And you couldn't even do that. You knew how important this project was to me, and you didn’t give a fuck. I wasted time waiting for you that I could’ve been working or rehearsing! I—Are you listening?”

Matthew’s eyes had been concentrated solely on your chest, “Are you wearing a bra?” He asked.

You took a step back, stunned, blinking rapidly as you searched around the room. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m just trying to find where the hell that came from?”

“It came from that itty bitty shirt you’re wearing,” he replied with a shrug. “Doesn’t really leave much to the imagination.”

“Stop staring at my tits!” You shouted, face turning red. “God, Matthew, I can’t stand to look at you right now. Just, leave. Please.”

He did not stop staring at your tits. Not for a very long time. But when he did, he had this look in his eyes. Like a wire had snapped. And he kissed you. Cupped your face in his hands, pulled you close, and kissed you. You pressed your hands against his chest, face contorting in shock and confusion.

You pushed him away, lips retracting with a sharp smacking noise. Saliva dripped from your lips, and you stood there, huffing and puffing like the two of you had just run a mile. “What the hell was that?” You snapped, your fingertips lightly touching your bottom lip.

He didn’t reply. He was just as speechless as you were. Speechless, and confused, and out of breath, and so, so pretty. He was so pretty. Has he always been that pretty?

You grabbed onto the hem of his shirt and pulled him back in, pressing your lips together in an aggressive collision. Matthew’s hand gripped onto your hair, his body pushing itself against yours in an eager attempt to get as close to you as possible. His other hand made its way to your waist, gripping onto your skin so hard, his nails left marks. Both his hands began to snake down your body, landing on the back of your thighs.

Very suddenly, Matthew scooped you up in his arms, yanking your feet off of the ground. You let out a breathy ‘oof’ as you found yourself perched in his grasp, your legs wrapped around his torso, your hands on his shoulders. He supported your weight so easily, all while sliding his tongue into your mouth.

He carried you over to your bed, where he abruptly dropped you onto the mattress, and looked down at you with a lustful grin. Standing beside the bed, he leaned in as if he was going to kiss you — slowly, with his hands reaching out to touch your body — but he didn’t. Instead, he placed his hands on your ribs and pushed your sweater up, over your breasts to reveal your chest.

“I knew it,” he whispered. “I knew you weren’t wearing a bra.”

Your breath caught in your throat, before you released it shakily. His lips wrapped around your nipple, wetting it with his tongue and applying light suction. A soft moan left your mouth, and you gripped onto his hair in ecstasy. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He sucked harder, to the point of pain, just to hear you make some noise. Any noise. When one nipple began to pulse between his lips, he moved to the other, leaving a trail of love bites between them.

The heat between your legs was suffocating, and you rubbed your thighs together for some relief. Matthew noticed this, and proceeded to stick his hands down your pants, fingers sliding underneath the band of your underwear. He smirked at how soaked you were already and rubbed your clit as he licked a trail up to your neck. You tightened your thighs around his hand, gasping at the friction and pulling at the bedsheets.

The sound caused Matthew to take in a sharp breath of air. His cock was pressed against the zipper of his jeans, and was getting to the point that it was excruciating. So, as he massaged your nerve, he undid his pants and pushed them down his legs.

He nibbled on your ear, and as you gave him a quiet moan, your eyes flickered down to look between your bodies. Flushed, and horny, and suddenly so desperate, you grabbed onto Matthew’s large erection and pressed the tip against your clit.

He grunted and pulled back to stare you in the eye, a sly grin creeping onto his face. He laughed, “I knew it. I fucking knew it. Innocent? Innocent, my ass.”

As you rolled your eyes at him, he kissed your lips softly, hands holding onto your thighs. You positioned his cock at your entranced and allowed him to press into you. He stood up straight, watching his cock disappear inside you, slowly, steadily, before he suddenly slammed into you. The sound of skin colliding on skin mixed in with your and Matthew’s moans, and he watched your head roll back in pleasure.

He licked his lips, smirking. And he did it again. And again. And again. Pulling out all the way and pushing back into you. Hard. The sensation struck your chest, and elicited vulnerable moans from you every time he pounded you. Matthew instantly began to speed his hips up, nails digging into your thighs as he pressed your legs open for him. His used all his strength to fuck you, your head knocking into the wall with every thrust. It was sloppy and messy and you couldn’t stop whimpering. Your eyes were screwed shut, and when you opened them again, the first thing you noticed with his chain. The gold medallion dangled in your face, Matthew’s lips pressed against your cheek.

Absentmindedly, you tangled your fingers in the chain, tugging on it as your volume increased. “Fuck,” you muttered. “Oh, fuck.”

He brought his hand up to your face, placing his thumb on your bottom lip. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, quietly, softly. And you did it without thinking. His thumb slid into your mouth, twirling around your tongue and stifling your moans.

He removed his hand and placed his thumb on your clit, wetting the skin with your own saliva. You let out a loud yelp at the new sensation, and a bubble instantly formed in your stomach.

Oh, no, not Matthew, you thought. Don’t let it be Matthew.

But with his cock and his hips and the way he kissed your neck and rubbed your sensitive nerve all at once. You came, you came with a fit of pornographic moans, trembling and writhing around on the bed.

And it was Matthew — the first guy to make you come. Ever.

He licked his lips as he watched you come undone beneath him, proud of himself — to the point of cockiness. Giving you a few more forceful pumps, he pulled out of you and released himself onto your chest, watching the fluid cover the hickies he’d left there.

He looked angelic on top of you, moaning, panting, swearing under his breath. But the moment he finished, he stepped back, fastened his pants and walked away. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him in a daze.

Matthew logged onto your computer, pressed a few buttons and then closed the laptop shut. Then he left.

However, the next day he sent you an email. Your project. Fully and perfectly edited.

Okay. So, that happened. They said it would happen and it happened. Didn’t necessarily make you hate Matthew any less, but it happened. It was good. You hated to admit it. And it was all you could think about. You couldn’t even touch yourself or hold your pillow without thinking of Matthew. It was bad.

Especially, given the fact that after the whole situation, he decided not to talk to you. At all. Not in class, not while hanging out with friends, not even to pick a fight. Complete and utter radio silence. He looked at you enough though. Not while you were looking at him, of course. So, as far as you knew, you were far off of his mind. But life had to go on. You had to focus on school, and on top of that, you were due to perform in NYU’s production of Swan Lake in less than two weeks.

You landed the main role of Odette, meaning for the next two weeks, you had to eat, sleep, breathe ballet. You practiced for hours on end, barely saw your friends, which gave you a good break from seeing Matthew.

Opening night rolled around and you were so nervous, you thought you might puke. Only a freshman, it was a miracle you landed the role in the first place, which meant your performance tonight was a make or break moment. Claire could tell you were sick to your stomach and tried to distract you by taking a bunch of pictures on her phone.

“Smile, pretty girl!” She beamed, the flashing going off in your face as you posed. “[y/n], you’re gonna kill it! I’m so excited! Aren’t you excited?”

“Yeah...” you whispered. “Deathly excited.”

“Aw, poor baby,” she swung her arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna be front and center, cheering you on. Just focus on me, okay?”

You smiled and nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Okay.”

Your body was on autopilot out on stage. The movements you’d practiced everyday, for hours and hours on end, just flowed. The lighting in the audience was dark, but you could just barely make out Claire’s figure under the soft hue.

It wasn’t until the finale, when you stood ready for your closing performance, that the lights switched to their full intensity and you noticed a hand resting on Claire’s shoulder. An arm resting behind her head. Someone whispering in her ear, making her laugh.

Matthew.

He was here. He was here and he was with Claire. He was with Claire and he was watching you. And it made your stomach feel weird. But then the music kicked up. So, you had to go. You fell into your dance, your rhythm and for some reason, you could not stop staring at Matthew.

Every twirl, you made him your focal point. Looking at him again, and again, and again. Until the lights went out.

Supporting ballerinas cheered you on as you walked offstage, throwing flowers at your feet and giving you applause. Your instructor marched right up to you, kissed both sides of your face and embraced you. It was a wonderful feeling, but right then, you were drained, emotionally, mentally, physically, you needed some rest.

You locked yourself away in your dressing room, taking a seat in the mirror and beginning to remove your tights. Pressing a makeup wipe to your skin, you jumped, startled by a knock on the door. You rose from your seat and walked to the entrance casually, expecting Claire to greet you.

 But you froze, as soon as you opened the door. Eyes glazing over the person in front you, your breath caught in your throat. “Matthew.”

“Hey,” he smiled. He looked you up and down — your naked legs, your breasts poking through the thin material of the leotard. “You...you were amazing tonight.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Bye.”

You attempted to close the door on him, but his put his elbow against the frame, stopping it in motion. “Whoa,” he exclaimed, pushing his way into the room. “What the hell is your problem?” He closed the door behind him.

“My problem is that I’m very tired, and still need to change, and greet everyone waiting for me. So, I don’t have time for this.”

“Time for what?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

You ducked your head down, “Nothing. Nothing. You need to leave.”

“Hey, hey, hey, ballerina barbie,” he mocked. “What’s your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal! I have nothing to say to you Matthew. Same way you have nothing to say to me.” You scrunched up your face in a frown.

“I...” he paused, laughing under his breath. “I never said I didn’t have something to tell you. In fact, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked up at him — the gel in his hair, his black button down shirt flowing over his belt buckle, his dark eyes, his lips and the way they were pouting just a little. And like a magnet, you found yourself being pulled towards him. You jumped into his arms, hands on his face, and connecting your lips, mouths open, tongues touching.

Matthew held you up, moaning against your lips. “Mm,” you hummed. “Wait, what if someone comes in?”

Matthew thought quickly, hiking you up in his arms and shoving your back against the door. “Well, now they can’t get in, can they?” He mumbled, leaving kisses along your neck.

Your jaw dropped and you started to undo his belt, freeing his cock from his pants. He grunted against your skin as you stroked him, your head leaned back against the door, your chest heaving. You used your other hand to pull your leotard to the side, revealing your throbbing core.

Matthew smirked, letting you guide his dick to your entrance, and pushed his way into you swiftly. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck to keep yourself quiet. His thrusts were quick, rough, messy. He was much more vocal this time, making no effort to stay silent.

“Fuck,” he moaned in your ear. “F-fuck, I forgot how good your pussy is. Fuck.”

The feeling was mutual. For the past month, you’d be wondering what the hell about Matthew had you so stuck. So fixated on him. And this was it. He filled you up perfectly, could manhandle you however he wanted, and always, always made sure you came.

He fucked you harder when he noticed your orgasm nearing — your quickened breaths, frequent moans and whines, and your legs tightening against his torso. “Oh, my God,” you whimpered.

“Shit, are you gonna come?” He asked. “Good.”

Breathless, speechless, you stared into his eyes helplessly as your body began to crumble. All power left your body and you held onto his shirt for dear life. He gave you a small smile, and flipped his hair out of his face, looking down at his cock. He could pinpoint the exact stroke that did it. The one that sent you into a state of euphoria, sent your eyes rolling back, your body into intense shock.

You let out a long and weakened sigh as the wave washed over you, and Matthew continued to plow into you like nothing was happening.

“It’s so cool how your pussy tightens up when you come,” he chuckled. “It’s hot.”

You rolled your eyes at the sound of his voice, clawing at the back of his neck. His breathing became ragged and hoarse, and he had to pull out of you before he came. He jerked himself off until he exploded onto your clothing. And with you being dressed in all black, his stains stood out perfectly on your costume.

This time, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before he left.

The week after that was finals week. And neither of you could be bothered to reach out. Despite the not-so-subtle confession of bitterness and the very intense orgasms you shared, you and Matthew simply went back to not talking. Your friends thought it was strange, even commented that they missed the bickering. The two of you shrugged in response.

Most of your dorm room was in boxes by the time you finished your last final exam. Claire was slower to pack up than you were, considering she only lived an hour away, but she applauded you for your determination. The day Claire did start packing was the day before you left for the summer. The two of you spent the day getting everything cleared out, cleaned, squared away.

While the two of you sat on your bed, watching Netflix, a knock sounded from your door. Claire hopped up and headed towards the entrance, opening it with a grand smile. “Gube!” She shouted, instantly opening her arms for a hug. Matthew wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, carrying her into the room with a smile.

“Are you about to leave?” She asked him, holding onto his arms as he placed her feet back on the ground.

“Yeah, my mom’s here. So, I wanted to stop by and say goodbye,” he nodded.

“Aw, Gube, you softie,” she giggled. “[y/n], come say bye.”

“I can say bye from right here, Claire,” you replied. She gave you a look, and you felt compelled to get off the bed. So you did, you approached them, “Bye, Matthew.”

“Bye, shortcake,” he laughed. “Bye, Claire.” He pulled your roommate into another hug, while you stood there, crossing your arms in annoyance.

Matthew peeked at you over Claire’s shoulder. One hand rubbed her back and the other reached out to you, holding a small note.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, then the note, then Claire. You ripped the paper from his hand, and stuffed it into your pocket right away. He smirked at you, and turned his attention back to Claire.

“Hey,” he said to her. “Come back to my place, I want everyone there to show my mom I actually have friends.”

Claire chuckled and nodded, “Okay,” she shrugged. “Let’s go. [y/n], you coming?”

“Uh, no,” you shook your head. “I’m gonna keep packing, but I’ll text you later.”

“Okay,” Claire smiled, and she let Matthew whisk her away.

You sighed, and as soon as the door closed, you pulled the crumpled piece of paper from your pocket. You opened it up to reveal — not a meaningful message, not even a few words. Just one string of numbers, writing in his handwriting:

505.

[PART 2.]

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